I'll Leave You to Your Deductions
by Decisions Are Hard
Summary: No one could ever love Sherlock enough to marry the man, at least that's what Scotland Yard thinks. These are a few of the ways Scotland Yard can learn that Sherlock's got a wife/girlfriend/fiance. Fem!John. Series of unconnected one shots.
1. The Invitation

**The Invitation**

_I do not own this show at all. Now that that is out of the way please enjoy the story._

The card sized envelope was mocking him. It had turned up in his mail at New Scotland Yard in a larger shipping envelope that had also contained a large magnifying glass and a sharp wicked looking letter opener shaped like a dagger. It was suspicious and he dreaded opening it in fear of finding some unspeakable horror, being a police officer and working with Sherlock Holmes had made him incredibly wary of things like this. This mysterious package he received with no return address and no way of telling who sent it without the help of the forensics team or the consulting detective Sherlock Holmes. He looked at it the way one might eye a viper and he hoped he didn't look too foolish keeping his chair between him and the envelope like he feared it might jump up and bite him.

He'd had it inspected and it appeared to contain nothing dangerous besides the letter opener that was in the larger envelope. It was just paranoia, well deserved paranoia, but paranoia nonetheless. He took a deep breath and sat down in his chair. With a hand that was not shaking he picked up the letter opener and slid it into the lip of the envelope. The thick heavy paper parted like melted brother and he instantly knew the letter opener was high quality and could probably be used as a deadly weapon. He put down the letter opener and slid the card that was in the envelope out and noted its quality. The card was rather minimalistic in design but it was heavy and looked expensive for an invitation. It was a soft cream color that edged closer to yellow than white with a large calligraphy WSSH and JHW pressed into the paper in black ink as its only decoration.

He opened the card taking note of the interior which was minimalistic like the outside of the card. The wording was presented with bold calligraphy which was again the only decoration. None of that rally registered though as he nearly had a heart attack right then and there the second he saw the names. In fancy curving script were the words 'Detective Inspector Gavin Lestrade. You are hereby cordially invited to the wedding of Mr. William Scott Sherlock Holmes to Dr. Johanna Hannah Watson on Saturday the 21st of February at St. Mary's Church at 12 o'clock. The intended couple request that you dress formally for this occasion and arrive thirty minutes early to secure your seat. They look forward to having you present at this very special day.'

He dropped the invite and nearly fell on the floor himself. Sherlock was getting married! He didn't even have a girlfriend! When did he even send out the invitation the wedding was only three days away! Then again it was just like Sherlock to get married and leave people less than a week to get ready. It was also just like Sherlock to use a method of sending them that would make anyone with half a brain freak out. He sighed pressing his hand to his temples to ward off the headache he knew was coming. He'd have to go to the wedding or he would face the wrath of a gossip deprived police force. Heck he wanted to go just to see what kind of woman would say yes to Sherlock.

That was how he found himself at the store taking a mini fridge to the checkout lane right after he got off work. The checkout girl a woman that looked to be in her late forties smiled at him. "Do you have a child going to university?"

"No a friend of mine is getting married. This is their wedding gift." Lestrade said patting the side of the box as the lady looked for the bar code.

"Any reason you decided on a mini fridge and not something more useful like a blender or a food processor?" She asked laughter in her voice even as she scanned the item and he paid for it.

Lestrade smirked as he thought back to his first time looking through the fridge in Sherlock's apartment. "Trust me if you knew the guy getting married you'd agree that this is a marriage saver."


	2. The Cab Ride

**The Cab Ride**

_I do not own this show at all. Now that that is out of the way please enjoy the story_**_._**

Gregory Lestrade smiled and ran across the street as he saw the cab skid to a stop. He climbed in just as he noticed that he'd gotten in at the same time as someone else. There was a woman sliding into the other side her dishwater blonde hair cut alarmingly short with a kind tanned face and eyes that were a dark enough blue to be confused with brown. Her face was lined but there was youthfulness in it and her lips were curled up in a friendly smile with a nose that was upturned. A cane rested over her legs and a black jacket sat comfortably on her shoulders over an unflattering oatmeal cable knit jumper. Overall she seemed harmless and he gave her a friendly smile.

"Do you mind sharing the cab? There's a bloke I know who can make cabs appear like magic but I can never get one to stop." He said as he looked at her with what he hoped was a friendly smile and not a grimace. His day had been long and hectic and this cab was his first spot of luck all day

"No I know how hard it can be to get a cab." She said with a smile that was genuinely friendly.

"Take the lady where she needs to go first. I'll tell you the address after." Greg said to the cabbie and watched the man nod.

"Do you know where Angelo's is? My husband asked me to meet him there but he never told me the address." She asked the cabbie looking somewhere between embarrassed and resigned.

The cabbie nodded and she asked. "Can you take me there please?"

She faced Lestrade and held out her hand. "John Watson." She said looking slightly embarrassed by her name.

Greg blinked in surprise but took her hand. "Greg Lestrade. I don't mean to be rude but are you really named John?"

"Yeah it's a bit of a family thing, my sister's name is Harriet but we've always called her Harry. Likewise I've always been called John if you're uncomfortable with it though feel free to call me Johanna, anything but Jo or JoJo." She rambled on with the distracted air of one used to explaining herself when her eyes lit up and she turned to him. "Wait Lestrade would you by any chance be Detective Inspector Lestrade from New Scotland Yard?"

"You've heard of me?" Greg said a surprised smile curling on his lips, being recognized by his name felt kind of like being famous.

Her face split into a wide easy grin. "My husband talks about you a lot. Of course he doesn't bother to remember first names so I wasn't sure if the famous DI Lestrade was you or some other Lestrade. All I knew for certain is that you work at Scotland Yard." John said with a knowing smirk like she was in on a joke and he wasn't.

"No I'm the only DI Lestrade in London, of that I'm sure. So your husband who is he I don't think I know any Watsons?" Greg said genuinely curious.

"You've met him through work." She said with a sly smile and he knew instantly she was hiding something from him. She wasn't even trying to be subtle about it either.

"Your husband would I know him? He isn't a criminal I helped put away is he?" Greg said panic beginning to show in his eyes as he imagined being killed by an angry wife in the back of a cab. He didn't quite like the mental image of being beaten down by a woman with a cane that had popped into his head. Being in law enforcement and working with Sherlock was making him paranoid.

She let out a surprised sounding breath like the thought that her husband could be a criminal had never crossed her mind. "Oh! No! No my husband is _not_ a criminal but if I told you who he was you wouldn't believe me."

"One of the big brass then is he?" Greg said his smile returning now that he wasn't dealing with a potential threat.

"Oh in his mind he certainly is." She said with that same knowing smirk she had earlier.

He frowned. "I think you've got me stumped. I can't think of anyone."

"You'll probably be seeing me and him together soon. Now that I'm back my husband's got it in his head that I should be his assistant and he's very persuasive. Next time you see him I'll probably be right there to lend a hand. I actually just got home from Afghanistan yesterday. You probably would have met me sooner if I wasn't there." She said shaking her head with a fond smile.

"Afghanistan?" Greg said the confusion clear in the twist of his face and the hushed way he spoke.

"I was in the army and I got shot." She said bitterness staining her words and painting itself over her features. "I was an MD an Army Doctor. I can't serve anymore I was invalidated home."

"Thank you for your service." He said gentleness in his tone as he held out his hand for a handshake.

"I should say the same to you Detective Inspector." She said shaking his hand. "Anyone who dedicates their time to protecting people has my respect, besides anyone who can put up with my husband deserves it." She said with a bright smile.

Lestrade laughed. "He a pain then?"

"Does the Earth orbit the Sun?" She said beaming like it was her own little inside joke.

"So he is a pain."

"Yeah he is but I love him anyway." She said with a grin.

"Your stop is coming up it'll be on your side of the car Mrs." The cabbie said.

The cab stopped and she paid him his due. "It was nice to meet you Greg." She said with a smile.

"Likewise." He said as she left the cab and shut the door and limped toward Angelo's.

Lestrade didn't think about the strange cab meeting until he decided to invite Sherlock to another crime scene. When the man arrived over two hours later Greg almost fainted. Standing right behind him was the woman from the cab. Sherlock, she was married to Sherlock and to think he was afraid she was married to a criminal. This was worse much much worse. "That's your husband!" He screamed. He never did manage to live the 'your husband' incident down.

_The magnifying glass is half a representation of the wedding theme which is murder mystery and half a way to freak people like Lestrade out. It was John's idea. I tried to think up a name as embarasing for a girl as Hamish would be to a guy and I'm happy to know that i'm not the only one who thinks Johanna Hannah is a funny. Thank yous to everyone, who read, reviewed, followed, and/or favorited._


	3. The Harry Incident

**The Harry Incident**

_I do not own this show at all. Now that that is out of the way please enjoy the story._

The woman was a lunatic. She was also hysterical and dramatic and a thousand and one things he didn't need to deal with right now. Lestrade held his head in his hand as he listened to the blonde woman who was dressed to the nines loudly screech about blood and how ruined her new shoes were and how horrible today had been for her and how much the small wound on her side hurt. It was just his luck that the only witness to a terribly violent murder that was in his jurisdiction just had to be a raving mad drunk. She'd been at it for what felt like hours and the whole thing was a mess and it just wouldn't stop. The woman refused to leave the crime scene and get in the ambulance because she didn't care that she was a witness and would need to give a statement and be treated for the sluggishly bleeding wound on her side. Instead of listening to them she cried into her phone drunkenly slurring every single word so no one could make out what she was saying. It was almost a relief that she dropped her phone until she started crying again.

Ten minutes later Lestrade was about ready to pull his hair out of his head out of sheer frustration. Donovan and Anderson were in a particularly vicious fight and of course they brought it to work with them, the team was made almost entirely of the newly minted rookies, the drunken woman had taken to hysterically crying against the wall and screaming at various intervals, they couldn't sedate her because she was drunk enough that it could kill her if they tried, and his already sour day just kept getting worse. That was when the cab pulled up and Sherlock Holmes walked up to Donovan without his trademark haughtiness for once. Instead he looked vaguely disturbed and for whatever reason that made Lestrade all the more wary.

"Ah Donovan relationship troubles?" Sherlock asked casually as he walked up to the police tape.

"What are you doing here Freak?" Sally snarled her anger at Anderson easily redirected to the consulting detective.

"Oh I was invited." Sherlock said with a fake smile that was more of a grimace.

"Lestrade didn't call you." Sally ground out through clenched teeth.

"Yes but I wasn't invited by Lestrade." Sherlock said ducking under the tape and swinging past her with a flicker of his coat. He walked up to the crying woman and jerked back when she threw her arms around him and sobbed noisily into his coat. He stood there looking like he didn't have a single clue as to what he should do as she squealed untranslatable nonsense into the man's shoulder. It would have been funny to Lestrade if day wasn't already so horrible that he couldn't even drum up enough patience to be amused.

Lestrade walked up to him putting his hand on the other man's shoulder. "I don't know why you came here but we could use your help." He gestured to the still sobbing woman hoping he didn't look or sound as desperate as he looked. "She won't stop crying and we need to get a statement. She needs to see the paramedics and get her wound treated. It's not deep but we don't want that cut getting infected and she won't listen to us."

Sherlock nodded as he robotically rubbed the woman's head having finally figured out something to do with his arms. "I see."

"What are you even doing here?" Lestrade asked relief involuntarily making his voice change tone.

"Harry called me." Sherlock said simply as though he was not being used as an oversized tissue.

"Okay who's Harry and why did he call you?" Lestrade didn't even know who he was but he was seriously considering recommending him for a promotion at this point.

Sherlock scowled at him. "Harry is my sister-in-law and right now she seems to be quite distressed by what happened."

"Wait that's your sister-in-law did your brother get married?" Lestrade asked confusion heavy in his voice because in his mind there was no way that Mycroft had managed to find a woman who could put up with his stalker tendencies.

Sherlock sighed. "No I did. This is Harry Watson my sister-in-law she's an alcoholic. It's likely that she won't be sober anytime tonight and she most likely won't remember this in the morning. "

To put it simply Lestrade's brain broke. He stopped, everything in his body just quit working, and his brain didn't even bother to remind his lungs to breathe. He just stood there staring wide eyed and open mouthed at Sherlock until he somehow managed to get out of the daze brought on by the discovery that Sherlock Holmes who practically hated everyone was married. In fact he wasn't the only person dealing with a brain that had crashed at that impossible piece of information. Nearly every police officer at the scene was staring at Sherlock like he'd grown a second head instead of a drunken limpet. He just barely managed to come out of his daze in enough time to catch what happened next.

"You can't be married what woman would ever agree to marry you?" Sally yelled as she stormed over to him wildfire burning in her eyes. She pointed in his face yelling loud enough to be heard over Harry's earsplitting wails. "This is just some trick to cover up your crimes! This whole mess was probably caused by you! I've never even seen your wife! Does she exist or is she just another one of your tricks? If she does exist which I quite frankly doubt did she leave you when she found out what a monster you are?"

Sherlock's eyes narrowed even as he curled his arms around Harry as though to protect the crying woman. "My wife exists she is in Afghanistan. She's been there for the last three years."

Sally laughed bitterly her words sour spilling over the scene like expired milk. "Doesn't surprise me at all if I made the mistake of marrying you I'd run away too."

Sherlock snarled at her the venom in his voice almost thick enough to see curling out between his teeth dripping off his tongue. "My wife is Captain Johanna Watson of the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers. She is an army doctor and she went overseas to serve her country not get away from me." He turned to Lestrade the venom draining out of his voice so quickly it was like it he hadn't just been snarling at Donavan like an attack dog. "I'm taking Harry back to Baker Street. Mrs. Hudson will look after her while I sort this out for you. You can collect your statement from her in the morning."

He turned and walked away guiding Harry with his arms. He led her into a cab and made sure she was situated before entering the other side. The cab pulled off and Lestrade looked after it blankly. He finally shook off his daze when the cab disappeared around the corner. "Did that just happen? I feel like I just stepped into a dream because nothing makes sense right now."

_No in The Invitation they are not married yet. These are one-shots that are only connected by a central theme, Sherlock has a relationship with female John that no one at the Yard knows about. Eventually there will be ones that are connected to each other but they will be labeled like so _The Invitation: The Your Wife Incident_. I do have a back story for their relationship as it appears in this series and it will show up in the future as a bonus chapter of sorts. That back story is kind of like the trunk of the tree that all the different chapters offshoot from so that is how they met in every chapters individual universe. i hope that that clears it up a bit. Calling female John by girlified names bugs me too. I don't see why a girl can't go by the name of John when some go by Harry or Sam. Thank yous to everyone, who read, reviewed, followed, and/or favorited. I saw a couple of editing errors and fixed them.  
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	4. The Dinner at Angelo's

**The Dinner at Angelo's **

_I do not own this show at all. Now that that is out of the way please enjoy the story._

Anderson smiled as he looked at Angelo's Italian restaurant and wrapped his arm around Sally's waist. It was the perfect place to take Sally for their date. It was small, out of the way, and romantic looking. It was also a place his wife would never set foot in. Sally and he had only ever been casual but sometimes it was nice to share a romantic night out that would end the way he wanted it to instead of in another fight. He walked into the small Italian restaurant and smiled at the server. The server gave a polite smile back and escorted Anderson and Sally to a small table where he gave them each a menu and asked what they would like to order. Feeling in the mood to splurge he ordered a bottle of Sally's favorite wine and basked in her adoring look. While they were looking over the menu however he looked up and what he saw caused his jaw to drop.

Standing in the front of the restaurant in all his coat and scarf wearing glory was Sherlock Holmes holding open the door to let the woman behind him into the restaurant. She was short with ashen blonde hair cut into an almost military looking pixie cut. Her face was tanned and lined but he wouldn't say she looked old she looked around his age maybe a bit older. She had on an ugly jumper that looked like day old oatmeal, jeans, and a black jacket that was much more flattering than the jumper. What was truly surprising though was that Sherlock was laughing and it didn't sound fake or put on his deep baritone easily carrying through the room.

The server led them to a table right by the door and Anderson scowled, Sherlock just had to ruin everything didn't he? His date night with Sally just had to be in the same restaurant Sherlock had decided to take one of his clients to. Well he tried to ignore the two but it was hard because every few minutes one of them would burst out laughing and Anderson began to doubt that the mystery woman was a client. The thought that she could be Sherlock's date went through his brain but was immediately dismissed. Sherlock would never go on a date and if he did Anderson could only picture someone like him. Of course by date he meant plot fest because let's face it Sherlock wouldn't know what to do in life outside his own little psycho world.

Anderson and Sally ordered their dinner and waited to be served their meals but their romantic night out had been ruined by the bane of their existence. They couldn't chat nicely because Sherlock was there and Anderson was beginning to get paranoid that the only reason Sherlock was there was to spy on them so he could spill more of their private lives to the rest of the yard. Sally sneered after a particularly loud laugh rang out through the room pointing at the two of them with her fork. "They really need to shut up." Anderson raised his glass in approval and joined her in glaring at the two.

Their not so romantic date night was interrupted yet again when a large fellow with a pony tail walked up to Sherlock's' table and put his arm around the self-proclaimed sociopath. His voice was loud and boisterous as he offered the two of them 'anything on the menu, whatever they'd like free of charge'. Now Anderson did not consider himself a jealous man, but when Sherlock Holmes of all people got free food from the owner of the restaurant on the perfect date night he'd planned for Sally he got angry. So did Sally judging from the disgusted look on her face.

They got through their dinner somehow, eating pasta that now seemed overpriced when Sherlock was eating for free. They kept suspicious eyes on the couple and watched them though neither of them was sure what they were looking for. There had to be something wrong there, no one laughed with Sherlock. Plenty of people laughed at him but to the two police officers the idea of someone genuinely liking Sherlock just wasn't possible. The night went on and somehow it had turned from a pleasant date night to let's try and spy on Sherlock night. It was boring but only because they were too far away from Sherlock and the woman they had decided was his date to hear anything. For the first time Anderson regretted being too far away from Sherlock.

The woman left from the table a small smile on her face as she laughed going toward the ladies. Sherlock began to fidget when she was out of sight. To say that they were surprised was an understatement it was out of character for him to say the least. He took a large sip from his wine and when the woman came back from the ladies he met her halfway and dropped to one knee. Sally spit her wine and Anderson was sure he choked on his. The woman was crying as Sherlock slipped the ring he'd shown to her when he knelt and put it on her finger as she nodded enthusiastically.

"The Freaks getting married." Sally croaked out sounding depressed and horrified. Her skin had gone a shade of white that made her look anemic and Anderson hoped he didn't look the same. All Anderson could do was nod his head blankly as he watched the happy couple proceed to kiss to the point of indecency in the middle of the restaurant. It was official his date night was ruined.

_Some other Yarders get the spotlight at last. I can't say that I'm adverse to Mollcroft or suggestions so you'll be seeing those two eventually they may even get a bonus chapter where Sherlock finds out that they are together. I think he must be, to deal with being a tissue to his drunk sister-in-law it must be true love. __Thank yous to everyone, who read, reviewed, followed, and/or favorited. _


	5. The Danger Night

**The Danger Night **

_(Tissue alert!)_

_I do not own this show at all. Now that that is out of the way please enjoy the story._

Lestrade looked at the messages on his phone and frowned. Normally he was annoyed that he had too many messages now however there was close to nothing. Sherlock should have texted him by now this was an interesting case. The only times Sherlock didn't text him when he had a case like this was when he was out of town, had already started on the case without them, or when he was on drugs. Sherlock wasn't out of town so that left already on the case or on drugs. He'd been clean for a while now but it wouldn't hurt to check up on him.

"Anderson! Donavan!" He yelled out his office door so that they could hear him. "Gather up a team of volunteers to do a drugs bust at Sherlock's. We leave in fifteen minutes so be quick about it."

It didn't take them long to get ready and soon they had a team put together. None of them were on the drugs squad but they had all worked with Sherlock before and it was never hard to get anyone he'd worked with together for something that might get the Consulting Detective in trouble. It wasn't long before they arrived at 221B ready to check every square inch of the flat for drugs. A posh man in a three piece suit stood at the top of the steps his eyes narrowed as he saw the squad.

"Ah Gregory Lestrade, you can stay as for the rest of you leave now." The man with the umbrella said as he glared at the police that were crowding the stairs. Lestrade recognized him, Sherlock's older brother Mycroft.

Greg winced but nodded his head. "Alright you heard the man I'll go see to Sherlock, the rest of you back to the Yard."

"You're just going to listen to this guy?" Anderson asked skeptically.

"You might wish to watch what you say Phillip I am not in the most forgiving of moods." Mycroft said his cold eyes and tone having turned glacial.

Anderson's mouth snapped shut with a click and he tried to discreetly flee along with the rest of the officers. Lestrade turned to look at Mycroft concern in his eyes, not much could make Mycroft Holmes lose his temper even in that slight amount. He walked up the stairs and Mycroft moved to the side to allow him to pass and followed him into the room. Everything was a mess. It looked like the flat had exploded and nothing not even Sherlock's beloved skull survived the onslaught. Sherlock was sitting in his chair his arms wrapped around his legs staring into nothing. There were tear tracks on his cheeks and his eyes were glazed as he stared at the wall with vacant eyes.

Lestrade ran over to him and tried to get his attention but nothing he did elicited any kind of reaction from the detective. "What the hell is he on?" The detective shouted panic putting an edge in his voice. Sherlock was on drugs again and failure and guilt stained Lestrade's thoughts.

"My brother has not taken any drugs to get into this state though I fear he will before long. Sherlock will be in need of supervision for some time to prevent a relapse." Mycroft said as he watched Sherlock from the doorway.

"What's wrong with him?" Lestrade asked as he tried and failed to get Sherlock out of his mind palace and into the waking world by shaking his shoulder. The action did nothing to help and Sherlock just stared dead eyed at the armchair across the room.

"Many people assume that my brother is untouched by the pain of this world but my brother has tasted sorrow before and he has never been one to cope well with loss. I'm afraid of what he will do and to be truthful I fear for his life." Mycroft said with a slight shake to his voice that only those who knew Mycroft well could detect. "His wife Johanna died a week ago in Afghanistan."

Lestrade felt like he'd been punched in the chest and he looked at Sherlock. "He's married." The words were a hoarse whisper.

"He has been for quite some time." Mycroft said leaning on his umbrella. "I do not think staying here would be conducive to his health. Neither would staying with me I feel that in this time my presence would not provide the comfort he needs."

"So you want him to stay with me?" Lestrade asked as he couldn't think of another reason Mycroft would have brought up living quarters.

Mycroft nodded. "Yes just until he is well enough to handle being on his own again."

"Alright." Lestrade said sadly. "He can stay with me."

_This one was on the sad side and there will be a couple more sad ones though they won't be the focus of this series. I will defiantly do the one where Mrs. Hudson learns because of the two bedrooms question because that would be hilarious. Thank yous to everyone, who read, reviewed, followed, and/or favorited. _


	6. The Costume Party

**The Costume Party**

_I do not own this show at all. Now that that is out of the way please enjoy the story._

Lestrade looked around the room surprised that the cafeteria of St. Bart's looked so big with all of the tables removed to make room for the hospitals annual costume party. He was only there because he'd gotten an invite from one of the pathologists he was on good terms with and he'd learned early on that it was a good idea to make friends with the pathologists when you were in the homicide department. He was waiting for her to arrive so he just stood near the door and looked around the room. There were lots of people mingling in groups spread out across the floor everyone dressed in costumes that ranged from funny to terrifying to disturbingly inappropriate. He'd dressed as the Tenth Doctor because it was an easy costume as he already had a pinstripe suit and the long coat to go over it and costumes were mandatory. All in all he didn't think he looked too bad he'd even gotten a sonic screwdriver and a pair of red converse to pull it together. At least he wasn't nearly naked like some people were.

He was getting more and more bored by the minute surrounded by people without a friendly face in sight when a large man in an impressive for how realistic it was and slightly scary scarecrow costume walked up to the doors holding up an old camera. Lestrade was bored and so he decided to ask him why he felt the need to add an old film camera to a perfectly good scarecrow costume and lurk by the door. "What's with the camera?"

The man spared him a sideways glance but otherwise kept his eyes on the door. "A few friends of mine are coming to the party. Molly and John, Johns' full name is Johanna but we've always called her John, are bringing their husbands with them and I can't use digital film around those two. They will delete any photos I take before I even get a chance to make prints. They just texted me that they'd arrived so I could have the camera ready."

"Molly? Do you mean Molly Hooper the pathologist?"

The man smiled with a large easy going grin. "That's her. So you must be Greg Lestrade the detective inspector from Scotland Yard?"

"Yeah. I didn't know she was married." Greg said feeling foolish for not even bothering to ask her in the years that his department had worked with hers.

"Has been since she graduated from university. I'll be sure to take extras for you." He said holding up the camera with a smile.

"Why would I want pictures?" Greg said

"Oh you'll want these pictures believe me." The man said as he elbowed Greg in the shoulder in a friendly way.

"Hi Mike! Greg!" Molly chirped as she walked into the room with a smile on her face. Her shy nature seemed to be diminished by the confidence of wearing a costume. She was in a lab coat with multicolored stains that looked nasty, her hair had grey streaks died in, and she was wearing black makeup around her eyes. Mycroft Holmes walked in behind her wearing his signature three piece suit, a black wool coat that was reminiscent of Sherlock's signature coat, and a funny looking hat, and carrying a carpet bag and umbrella walked up behind her his face a blank canvas that somehow managed to express both complete humiliation and grudging fondness. Behind him was a woman with a strange looking costume that consisted of an old timey waistcoat, trousers, bare feet covered in fur, and a large walking stick dragging a man dressed from head to toe in black and red. His costume seemed reminiscent of a jester's with the diamonds and the hat and everything. His face was painted white and there was a mask on his face. He was also carrying what looked to be a giant hammer nearly as big as he was. It took him a while to see who it was behind the face paint but when he recognized the man he almost lost it laughing.

He managed to make himself stop after being treated to glares from both of the Holmes brothers. "I can't believe you two are married! And why wasn't I invited to the weddings."

"Sherlock and I married in uni and Molly and Mycroft got married about a year after us. I'm sure we would have invited you if we knew you at the time." The girl dressed up in the old timey costume said with a smile. She held out her hand. "I'm John Watson and you're Lestrade right?"

"Yeah. So what are you guys supposed to be?" Lestrade asked barely managing to say it without bursting into laughter.

"Victoria Frankenstein! I even brought a monster." Molly said with a smile as she held out the small green monster doll for him to see.

"Marion Poppins." Mycroft ground out like the words were physically painful.

"Bilba Baggins." John said with a smile.

"Harlequin." Sherlock said flatly.

"Like Harley Quinn from Batman." Lestrade asked as he remembered watching that show with one of his nephews.

"Yes unfortunately one of our clients insisted on making costumes for us and John said we should go along with it." Sherlock said with about as much enthusiasm as a corpse would have.

"Is that a real giant hammer?" He said looking at the wooden red and black painted hammer that was slung over Sherlock's shoulder.

"It was the only way to get him to wear the costume." John said with a grin.

_I couldn't resist the temptation to dress Mycroft up as Marry Poppins. I'll be getting to your guy's suggestions in time because so far all of them are awesome though I may not do them in the order they were suggested in. __Thank yous to everyone, who read, reviewed, followed, and/or favorited._


	7. The Meeting

**The Meeting**

_I do not own this show at all. Now that that is out of the way please enjoy the story._

D.I. Lestrade was not a patient man. He was the kind of man who liked to get things done quickly and not just done but done well. That flaw in his character was often exploited by the Consulting Detective Sherlock Holmes to allow him onto crime scenes and he allowed it. No one could solve a case as fast as Sherlock and they certainly wouldn't be as accurate as the arrogant man tended to be. So even though the man caused a ruckus whenever he was called in the D.I. would grin or grimace really and bear it. But this situation, this case that Lestrade had to admit even a rookie two days out of school and greener than an intern without any training could solve, had him questioning his sanity.

There was an attempted robbery at a small rather expensive café where some people who had family in the army would meet every two weeks or so. The whole thing was paid for by some anonymous benefactor and was filled with valuable easily taken things that would attract thieves. He could see why someone would want to rob the place. But the man who attempted it was a fool as he was seen by everyone in the shop without even bothering to put on a mask. He'd shot off his gun thankfully only hitting the wall, he hadn't worn any gloves, he was locked up in the loo, and really was the dumbest criminal Lestrade had ever seen. So why was Sherlock there standing over Anderson bitter poisonous insults filling the air around him?

"Enough!" Lestrade yelled when his patience finally snapped. "Sherlock what are you doing here?"

"Ingrid invited me!" Sherlock yelled like he did whenever he was pushed past the point of impatience.

Lestrade took a deep breath trying to keep his temper in check. When he felt that he could talk without screaming he went straight to the point. "Who the hell is Ingrid?"

A woman wearing horn rimmed glasses and a floral print dress and flats walked up to him and held out her hand. "That would be me, Ingrid Stricter. Sherlock's been coming to these meetings for some time now." When he didn't shake her hand she straightened her brown hair through the motions did little to help the messy bun.

"Why has Sherlock been coming to these meetings I thought they were only for people with family in the military?" He asked his head beginning to hurt. All he wanted was to go home and have a nice cup of tea.

She looked surprised her eyes widening before she put on a smile that looked off on her face. "His wife is a soldier. He's been here since she was last deployed after I met him in the airport when my husband was deployed. I told him about the meetings and he's been attending regularly ever since."

Lestrade blinked his brain failing to process what he'd just heard before it rebooted and he gave a short sarcastic laugh. "No what's the real reason he's here?"

"His wife is in the army." Ingrid said again firmly.

"He's not married!" Lestrade's hands tangled into his hair and he resisted the urge to pull his hair out. "I've known that man for five years and if he had a wife I am certain would have met her by now!"

Sherlock pulled his wallet out of his coat digging through it until he pulled out a photograph. He handed it to Lestrade and he looked at the picture with disbelief. A woman was sitting on a younger looking Sherlock's lap laughing and the Sherlock in the picture was smiling. It was a real smile too not one of the creepy ones he used around people he was manipulating or trying to creep out. Her dirty blonde hair was pulled back in a ponytail and she seemed genuinely happy. He took a closer look at the picture his eyes nearly popping out of his head as his jaw dropped. Was that Sherlock's hand going up her shirt?

"Yes we were quite passionate at the time. It was our first date." He said with a slight smile that was almost invisible and would be invisible to anyone who didn't know him.

Oh crap he said that out loud! He opened his mouth to speak and save some of his dignity from where it was crying out and dying on the floor. He regretted his decision immediately. "Uh you seem to be acting a bit forward for a first date."

"We'd already seen each other naked so it wasn't that big of a deal. Besides isn't everyone promiscuous these days?" Sherlock said clearly amused with how Lestrade was reacting to this new image that did not fit in with his knowledge of the man.

"How did that happen?" He put up a hand. "Wait don't answer that I don't want to know."

"I was on a case when the suspect threw hydrochloric acid he'd stolen from the chemistry lab on me I needed a shower before the acid could eat through my skin the closest one was in the girl's locker room. John played football in Uni and she'd just gotten out of practice. She picked the wrong shower. I'm sure you can work out what happened next."

Lestrade rubbed his hand down his face. "Let me get this straight you met your wife on a case while you were both naked."

"Yes." Sherlock said with a tone that clearly stated 'I just told you that idiot'.

"I think I need a moment." That was when darkness closed in on his vision and he hit the floor.

_I meant to put this in the last chapter but when I went to put it up it slipped my mind but yes this is a series of unconnected one shots. Any chapters that are connected will be clearly labeled as a continuation. As for what happened Sherlock explained everything to John after that unfortunate encounter, it didn't hurt that he had left his clothes in a pile on the floor and acid burns on his chest as proof. When it comes to dates he does not get the concept of personal space or taking it slow. He acts the way he thinks couples act which is limited as he deleted most of that knowledge if it didn't have to do with the Work. But considering that in the show John tried to get together with Sarah on their first date I don't think John would mind too much. So far Lestrade is getting all the love, but I will be focusing on the other characters more but Lestrade's going to be getting shocked the most often. __Thank yous to everyone, who read, reviewed, followed, and/or favorited._


	8. The Purple Shirt

**The Purple Shirt**

_I do not own this show at all. Now that that is out of the way please enjoy the story._

Sherlock was known for many things, his deductions, his inability to function like a normal human being, his general dislike of everything and everything that wasn't related to the work, his old drug habits, and his inability to use a fridge the way it was intended to be used. His clothing just happened to be one of those things. It was almost like the man was a cartoon character with how little he changed clothes. There were some exceptions like disguises for cases and the times they had to go to his flat where he usually didn't get out of his ratty pajamas and silk dressing gowns and that was only if he wasn't only wearing his bed sheets. So seeing him in the dark purple button down shirt was quite a surprise.

To Sally Donavan who had defiantly noticed, it was a nice surprise. The man might be a psychopath but he did look good, especially in that shirt. She'd spent a lot of time wondering how it was that someone who was such a freak could look so good in anything they wore. Even the bed sheets and ratty pajamas looked good on him. The purple shirt however took it to another level. It was so tight the buttons were straining and he'd left behind his signature coat in the blazing heat of the humid summer day. He looked like he might even shed the suit jacket at any moment. Sally even began to think it almost made standing in the dank alleyway that smelled like death even before the corpse had been left there worth it.

Sherlock stood up straightening his cuffs as he did so. He listed off his deductions of why this murder scene was clearly an accident and not a murder and Sally fought the urge to call him a freak. Lestrade had been on her case about that lately and she didn't want to risk anything with her relationship with Anderson becoming workplace gossip. Instead she waited at the edge of the police tape glaring at the freak. She tuned out his voice and watched him move waiting for one of the buttons to give out. He certainly was active when he was in the middle of a case or frustrated with someone. He moved a lot whirling around and no overlarge coat and a twirl to yell at someone he found incompetent made for a nice look at his bum.

"You can quit your gawking Donavan I'm not interested." Sherlock's deep baritone voice rang out.

Sally flushed with anger as her face took on a look somewhere between outrage and mortification. "As if anyone with a pulse would be interested in you freak!"

"Your wandering eye seems to say otherwise Donavan, but like I said I am not interested. I would prefer not to be gawked at." He said narrowing his eyes but otherwise doing nothing, looking casual and calm whereas she looked like she was about to explode.

"You Freak! What kind of woman do you think I am?" She shouted her face on fire. She might have looked but for him to insinuate that she wanted to do more than that was nothing short of revolting.

"The type who has affairs." Sherlock said simply.

Donavan couldn't even speak at that point, she felt like she'd been slapped across the face. She turned to look at Lestrade standing there doing nothing while she was verbally attacked. "You're just going to let him get away with that!"

"I have to agree with Sherlock I'm not that comfortable with having a known cheater or anyone really staring at my husband like that." A blunt voice said behind her.

Sally whirled around to see a woman who must have been crazy to be wearing a black and white striped jumper in this infernal heat and even crazier to be grinning at Sherlock. Sally glared at her and the woman looked right back with the blandest expression that Sally had ever seen. "You married that Freak!"

"Yes I did and the names John by the way." She gave a subtle nod to her husband before looking up at Sally from her shorter height. Her eyes slightly narrowed. "Can you do what Sherlock does?"

"Excuse me?" Sally said the sudden change of subject throwing her off.

"Can you do what Sherlock does? Because it seems to me that if you could solve this yourself you wouldn't need him here helping you on cases." She held up her hand when it looked like Sally was going to interrupt her. "Now I'll admit that I don't know much about detective work. What I do know about it comes from discussions with Sherlock and my medical experience from my years as a doctor. But from what I can tell without Sherlock helping you there would be many more criminals running around London causing trouble right now. I think that that would be enough reason to put aside your personal issues with him long enough for him to do his part to make your job easier and London safer. I know that you don't have to like someone to work with them or to respect their talents. So forgive me if I sound blunt when I say stop calling my husband a freak."

Sally laughed. "So how much did he pay you to say that?"

"I'm sorry." John said confused.

"How much did he pay you to pretend you're his wife?" Sally said slowly like she was dealing with an idiot.

John's voice was cold as she spoke. "Sherlock didn't pay me anything to pretend that I'm his wife. I married him because I love him, he loves me, and I can't imagine my life without him. I only came by because he was late for our anniversary date. He said it wouldn't be long but now I can see why it would take a while, with you wasting time insulting him instead of doing the job you're being paid to do."

"As much as I do love seeing you take on the idiots of the world John if we take much longer we'll miss the show." Sherlock said as he walked up to the police tape with Lestrade.

"Donavan I want to see you in my office when we get back to the station. You're on thin ice already and insulting civilians isn't helping." Lestrade barked. He turned toward John and smiled though it was noticeably strained. "I'm sorry Dr. Watson, my officers should know better by now. It is good to see you back from your tour safe."

John nodded. "It's nice to see you too Greg."

Sherlock's face twisted in confusion. "Who's Greg?"

_There's no need to feel stupid or sorry for bugging me I added the "series of unconnected one shots" to the summary after getting your comment to clarify things for anyone who might otherwise be confused. I'm going to try and do every suggestion as long as it fits in with the theme of the series that someone who doesn't know that Sherlock is in a relationship with fem!John finds out. I have to agree it is always fun to see Sherlock make Lestrade's life difficult. Thank you's to everyone, who read, reviewed, followed, and/or favorited._


	9. The Danger Night: A Dance of Distraction

**The Danger Night: A Dance of Distraction**

_I do not own this show at all. Now that that is out of the way please enjoy the story._

Lestrade watched as Sherlock grew colder and colder as the weeks went by. He thought Sherlock was abrasive before but he'd never seen Sherlock grieve before. He just seemed to shove everything he felt into some dark corner in the back of his head and what was left behind was so cold that now Sherlock could make Mycroft seem warm. When he wasn't being frosty enough to bring on a new ice age he was zoned out on the couch firmly in his mind palace. Whoever this John was she must have been something if she could bring him to this. He wouldn't even take cases anymore and not even a locked door case could tempt him to come out of his mind palace for long.

He'd managed to drag Sherlock off of his couch and forced him to put on some real clothes and dragged him into the office where he convinced Sherlock to look over an envelope that was addressed to him. He pulled a pink phone from the envelope one that was an almost exact replica of Jennifer Wilson's from the Killer Cabbie case as the press had taken to calling it. All that was on the phone was a voice message made of blips and a photo of a mystery room that turned out to be 221c. It was like this case was designed to light a fire in the man with how quickly it consumed Sherlock. He ran back and forth through London chasing paper thin leads that somehow produced results. At Scotland Yard they had little chance to do much but let him run and chase after him with the mystery criminal using a victim he'd strapped a bomb to as his mouthpiece as leverage.

Even through this chaos everyone that worked with Sherlock before had noticed that something was off with him as they followed him from clue to clue. He barreled through the scene like he would fall apart the instant he stopped. He even took the case from Mycroft without complaint to fill his time. He was focused like a laser no wasted breath on banter or insults, no lingering longer than necessary to bask in their awe or contempt, all he did was list off his deductions and took a pair of trainers they found on the scene to the lab where he and Molly would analyze everything. Muttering about pools and someone named Carl Powers as he did.

Lestrade followed him everywhere noting that the most emotion the man showed was disgust when Molly's new boyfriend Jim from It tried to hit on him. He winced in sympathy when Sherlock bluntly announced that the man was gay in front of her watching as horror filled her face.

"He's not gay! He's not!" Molly said shaking her head her hands tightening into fists.

But Sherlock barreled on listing all the reasons he knew her boyfriend was gay ending with him holding up the phone number. She ran out of the room and Lestrade followed after her hoping to calm her down and put some distance between Sherlock and himself before he blew up at the man. He managed to catch her in the hall before she could retreat into the ladies room.

"You alright?" He asked immediately cursing his mouth for letting him saying the worst thing he could say.

She laughed but it was a strained bitter thing. "No. I feel so humiliated. How could he do that?"

He nodded sympathetically. "He's been through a rough time recently."

She looked up at him her face already stained with tears. "What happened to him?"

"His wife died." Lestrade said softly still not quite able to wrap his head around that fact.

"He was married and I…" Molly ran into the ladies room unable to finish talking.

Lestrade stood in the hall feeling like an idiot of course Molly wouldn't know about Sherlock's wife. He walked back into the lab and nearly had a heart attack when he couldn't see hide or hair of Sherlock. Sherlock wasn't known for making the best choices and he was like a dog with a bone when it came to an interesting case. He just hoped the younger man hadn't gotten himself into trouble. Sherlock however wasn't concerned about himself. He played the game and let the bomber make him dance. He ran from crime scene to crime scene four in all solving each one until he'd had enough games. He was ready to face this criminal mastermind that had dragged him out of the fog of his grief.

He logged onto his website and typed in a request to meet at the pool from where Carl Powers had been murdered. He hopped in a cab with the flash drive containing the missile plans from the case Mycroft sent him on. He waltzed into the pool putting on a show for his mystery caller. He held up the flash drive as he looked out over the water at the empty room. He turned as though expecting the man to come up behind him. "Brought you a little getting to know you present. This is what it has all been for isn't it? All your little puzzles, making me dance, all to distract me from this." Sherlock said holding up the flash drive.

"Evening." A voice rang through the pool clear as a 's heart stopped beating as he turned to face the source of that painfully familiar voice. They continued seemingly oblivious to Sherlock's shock. "This is a turn up isn't it Sherlock."

_If you've seen the Great Game then you know who is talking to Sherlock at the pool. Everything that happened in the episode happens here except without John and with Lestrade taking Johns place in the lab with Jim and Molly. As for what happens to Molly Mycroft takes her out to dinner in order to smooth things over so that Sherlock does not lose one of his only friends and they hit it off. This is a continuation of Chapter 5, _The Danger Night._ Thank yous to everyone, who read, reviewed, followed, and/or favorited and special thanks to Arty Diane and Princess Mew Mew for your suggestions and a belated special thanks to the Guest who suggested Mollcroft._


	10. The Blog

**The Blog**

_I do not own this show or any websites affiliated with it at all. Now that that is out of the way please enjoy the story._

Lestrade had just about had it with the amount of spam he got in his email. If it wasn't such a pain to get all the contacts he needed informed and using his new address he'd delete the old account and get a new one. Instead he had to wade through the endless drivel feeling like his brain was going to go through a meltdown. This is what he got for neglecting to check it for a week. He was just about to shut it down when he saw one from Sally Donavan. '_You have got to see this'_, was written in the subject line in bold all caps with more explanation points than he bothered to count.

He clicked on it and saw that the email itself was just a link. He clicked on the link hoping that he wasn't on the other end of some cruel prank that could cost him his job. It brought him to a blog specifically it brought him to The Blog of Dr. John H. Watson. Who was an army doctor who had recently returned from Afghanistan. It was rather plain looking and it didn't seem to be anything extreme enough to deserve any exclamation points or the bold face all caps introduction it got. Not unless you counted the fact that John was a woman which although surprising still didn't warrant that much excitement but if Donavan sent it to him there must be something there. He clicked on the earliest entry and it was nothing, literally just the word nothing.

The next entry was labeled pointless and he was beginning to think that the name was right this was pointless. This was looking more and more like a prank being pulled on him the object of which was obviously to get him to read the world's most boring blog. He looked at the titles of all the entries only one of them standing out to him. This one made his eyebrows raise and he thought that maybe this wasn't the most boring blog in the world after all. _'My Husband Has Set the Kitchen Table on Fire… Again'_. That was probably what Donavan wanted him to check out. He clicked on it and read over the small entry. '_Sherlock was experimenting with flammable chemicals again. He's set the table on fire three times since I've been back. That's not an exaggeration there are three different scorch marks on the table. I'm going to have to buy a new fire extinguisher every month at this rate and if Mrs. Hudson raises our rent again I'm confiscating his blow torch and letting her hide the skull.'_

He read it again glad that he hadn't been drinking anything as it would have ended up being sprayed across his laptop. He froze for a moment. This was definitely a prank there was no way at all that Sherlock Holmes a man who kept body parts in his fridge was married. Still it was an interesting post so he looked at the comments and the first one made him rethink that statement. It read, _'It was an experiment and it was only a small fire our kitchen table has survived much worse. Could you pick up some milk we seem to be out?'_

The comment right after that was from someone named Harry Watson. _'Worse things than three fires burning it have happened to your kitchen table. Remind me not to eat at your table the next time I visit.'_

_'If you think acid spills are worse than fire then yes and Sherlock if you want me to get milk text me I won't check my blog in the middle of Tesco.' _John's comment read.

He sat there staring at the screen before he shook his head to shake away the daze. There was only one way to be sure that he wasn't just falling victim to a strangely elaborate prank. He grabbed his phone texting Sherlock. _'Are you married?'_

His phone buzzed and he checked the messages. The message that set it off was from Sherlock and it read, _'Why are you asking me if I'm married?'_

Lestrade waited a bit thinking of what he wanted to say before sending another text. _'Donavan sent me a blog that was apparently done by your wife.'_

The phone buzzed again. _'The Blog of Dr. John H. Watson?' _

He nodded typing in his reply. _'That would be the one. Is it real?'_

There was a pause not long but still disconcerting as Sherlock didn't usually wait to respond to texts. _'Yes it's genuine John and I are married and she keeps a blog.'_

_'So why am I only hearing about this now?' _Lestrade typed in wondering what else he'd managed to miss in regards to Sherlock. If he managed to hide the fact that he was married what else could he be hiding.

The phone buzzed and he looked at the new text. _'It didn't seem relevant.'_ Another arrived just a second after._ 'Do you have a case for me?'_

Lestrade looked at Sherlock's last text and shook his head. Of course it wouldn't be relevant to Sherlock he only ever saw him on cases and the man didn't exactly go around sprouting his whole life story. he did what needed to be done and he was on his way. He typed in his response and decided to let the matter go for now he could always ask about it later._ 'You heard about the Serial Suicides?'_

_Eventually Sally's reaction to the blog will be put up as she's the one who finds it in the first place but she'll be reading a different post than Lestrade. Thank yous to everyone, who read, reviewed, followed, and/or favorited._


	11. The Make Up

**The Make Up **

_I do not own this show at all. Now that that is out of the way please enjoy the story._

Mike led her into the room where she would find this person who also believed that no one would want to stay in the same flat as them. John was going to say something the words were already formed in her head waiting on the edge of her lips when they just stalled and suddenly she wasn't saying 'bit different from my day'. Instead when she opened her mouth what came out was more of a chocked gasp than words. Nonetheless she managed to get over her shock at seeing him and speak. "Sherlock!"

He looked up at her and she knew he'd already seen her, already had time to process things, while she was stuck in a mental windmill. He looked calm and aloof as untouchable as he always had been and when he spoke it was with a voice that had refined with age a deep baritone all confidence like he'd already known what would happen today. "John."

"I think I'll just let you two catch up while I go and fetch some papers." Mike said with a nervous looking smile as he made a quick exit. But while John didn't notice at all Sherlock didn't care and he left without being stopped by either of them.

"I thought that I would never see you again." It was the only thing she could think of to say and it stung to think of how true it was. Not once had she ever thought that she'd ever see him not after what they did, not after what said to each other.

"I thought the same." He said his deep voice was bitter filling the room and clouding her thoughts with a fog of déjà vu. "You left in quite the rush."

She looked down her face flushed with shame and the knowledge that even after all these years he still had that effect on her. "I shouldn't have."

He looked up at her and she was pinned down by the cold ice of his eyes as they looked over her scanning and dissecting what she had become in her absence. "I didn't give you much of a choice.

She shook her head biting her lip. "I could have stayed."

"Losing you did put things in perspective for me. I'm clean now. I don't even smoke." He shrugged off the suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves and she walked up toward him taking the invitation for what it was.

She looked over his arms running her fingers down each one and let out a shaky breath when she saw and felt nothing but old scars fading. He rolled down his sleeves and pulled his jacket back on and she took a step back to give him room and regain her composure. He took her silence as an invitation to speak his deep baritone cutting through the solemnity of the moment. "Afghanistan or Iraq?"

She blinked at him feeling like an idiot as she nearly always did around him.

"Which was it Afghanistan or Iraq?" He asked again already impatient.

"Afghanistan." She said suddenly hyper aware of the cane in her hands. Only five minutes with Sherlock and she'd already forgotten about it wasn't that just like her always dropping everything for him and regretting it every time she didn't. She put that thought from her mind letting her mouth curl upwards into a smile. "How'd you figure it out?"

"Your suntan and the cane." He said and she waited patiently for the rest of what was to come to crash over her like waves in a monsoon. "Your face is tan but your hands have no tan above the wrists. You've been abroad but not sunbathing. Your haircut and the way you hold yourself says military. Your limp is really bad when you walk but you don't ask for a chair when you're standing that means that the limp is at least partially psychosomatic. That indicates that the original circumstances of the injury were traumatic, so you were wounded in action. You were studying to become a doctor when you were in college and knowing you, you didn't quit just to join the army so army doctor then. So where would an army doctor get a suntan and be wounded in action? There are only two possible answers Afghanistan or Iraq?"

"God I missed that." She said in a rush of breath having unknowingly held it through his spiel.

He smiled in a sly Sherlock way that made her think he was planning something. It was hard to tell with Sherlock. "You never did act the way everyone else did when it came to my deductions"

She smirked at him one eyebrow raised. "People don't usually like having their dirty laundry aired out for the world to see but I always thought you were brilliant, still do."

"Would you like to move in with me?" He asked suddenly without giving her anytime to answer he barreled on. "That is why Mike brought you here isn't it? I told him this morning that I had a bit of trouble finding a flat mate and just after lunch he brings over the one person he knows can spend more than fifteen minutes in the same room with me."

She huffed annoyed. "I'm not the only person who can stand to be in the same room with you for fifteen minutes."

He smirked. "You're the only one who matters."

She was going to say something about him just insulting the few people who did like him when she found her mouth occupied by other things, mainly the pair of lips pressed against hers. Without thinking she responded pulling him closer deepening the kiss, her cane lying forgotten where she dropped it in surprise. Her fingers ended up in his hair as hands that started with gripping her arms loosened and wrapped around her waist. A startled gasp broke them apart and she had to turn around to see who had walked in on them.

The woman in the white lab coat with long hair pulled back in a ponytail was looking at them scandalized.

"Ah Molly coffee." Sherlock said as though he hadn't just been caught snogging his ex. "What happened to the lipstick?"

She looked between the two of them before answering in a voice that was disappointed and a bit bitter. "It wasn't working for me."

"Really I thought it was a big improvement mouths too small now." Sherlock said gesturing to his mouth as he walked back to his abandoned experiment.

"Okay." Molly's eyes welled up with tears and she ran from the room before she really started to cry.

"You could have been a bit gentler. There's a proper way to turn someone down Sherlock." John said as she looked up at Sherlock and shook her head. Some things would never change he was still as uncouth and socially inept as he'd always been.

He pulled on his coat and picked up his phone walking toward the door clearly intent on leaving. "Since when have I ever been proper?"

He looked at his phone flicking through something with intent eyes before he looked at her. "I've got my eye on a nice little place in central London together we should be able to afford it. We'll meet there tomorrow evening at seven o'clock. Sorry I've got to dash I left my riding crop in the mortuary."

She crossed her arms over her chest. "So that's it then one kiss and you think we're back together."

"I don't think I know and the address is two two one b Baker Street." He said with a wink as he leaned back into the room and then he was gone in a whirl of black coat.

"I'm going to regret this aren't I?" She said as she slowly lowered herself to the floor to pick up her cane.

_I decided to put a bit more focus on John and Sherlock in this one. Thank yous to everyone, who read, reviewed, followed, and/or favorited and special thanks to Arty Diane and Princess Mew Mew for the Molly finds out prompt. _


	12. The Unwanted Advance

**The Unwanted Advance**

_I do not own this show at all. Now that that is out of the way please enjoy the story._

Anderson waited in the line thinking about he'd rather be sharing a cup of coffee with Sally or his wife but they were both away and he had no one to share his evening with. His day had been long and exhausting and all he wanted was someone he could have a good time with. No nagging no fuss just a nice evening but nowadays that just seemed too much to ask for. Sally was getting more demanding asking him to break away from his lukewarm marriage to pursue a relationship with her and his wife was getting more and more suspicious. He wasn't ready to cut ties with his wife and Sally still hadn't realized that what they had was just a fling, just something on the side. In his opinion he really just needed something with no strings attached and no obligation to continue. Sally and he had started like that but now he was just about ready to give up on them.

She was wearing a black jacket over a striped black and white jumper and she had her sand coloured hair cut short. Her face was lined, she wasn't wearing any makeup, there were no rings on her fingers, and there were bags under her eyes. To put it simply she looked like she could use some temporary company for the night.

He turned toward her and smiled trying hard not to appear too eager and scare her off. "Hello."

"Hi." She said absentmindedly as she looked at the menu.

"My name's Phillip. What's yours?" he asked trying to sound inquisitive but mysterious.

"John, my real names Johanna but everyone calls me John." She said flatly.

"So do you like coffee?" He asked dragging out the so.  
>"I've always preferred tea." She said looking at the pastries in the glass case with a disinterested gaze.<p>

"Did you want to grab a cuppa then and chat?" he said not sure what else to say.

"So is that thing you have with Sally over or do you make it a point to cheat on both your wife and your mistress?" The woman asked casually like she was talking about the weather instead of the state of his marriage.

"How do you know anything about me?" Philip squeaked his voice reaching octaves he never knew he was capable of.

The woman laughed. "You're wearing your ID and office gossip doesn't always end at the office. My husband works with the Yard and he's mentioned you before." The woman finished talking turned back to the menu.

Anderson snorted laughing. "You're not married you're not wearing any rings."

"Neither does my husband, neither of us want them. That doesn't make our marriage any less real." She said with a shrug. "I was just grabbing us both something hot to drink. He won't be long something interesting caught his eye and there's no need for both of us to wait in line if I'd just stand there bored."

"So when should I expect to see him then?" Anderson said snottily his arms crossed over his chest.

"He shouldn't be too long. I should have just enough time to grab us our drinks." She said looking at her phone.

Anderson swayed back and forth on his feet searching for anything to say. "So what's he like then, this husband of yours?"

She smiled but it was like she was smiling at some secret joke he wasn't in on. "Probably not what you're expecting. So do you love her?"

The sudden question splashed over him like iced water. "Love who?"

"Your wife." She said her tone flat like she was talking with boring relatives at a party she had to attend.

"Of course I love her, I married her." Anderson whined, though he would deny it fervently.

"Does she know that?" She asked curiously.

"What?" He snapped feeling threatened and off balance.

"If you're cheating on your wife and you love her then obviously you feel that you can get something from Sally that you can't get at home. Now why would you be having trouble at home if you love your wife either she doesn't love you or there's something that you need to talk about and work through." She said with a shrug. "It's not that difficult to see."

"Are you implying there's something wrong with my marriage?" He asked sounding and looking confused.

She smirked. "Why else would you try to pick up a random stranger in a coffee shop?" Her face and voice took on a softer tone. "All I'm saying is that if you feel that she is not responding to you then you should talk to her about it. You're running off to Sally and in the end all you're doing is running from your problems and digging yourself a bigger hole to fall into. Cheating isn't something every relationship can survive."

"So you're telling me that I should tell my wife that I don't feel satisfied in our relationship." Anderson said skeptically.

She shook her head. "That's your decision and you should place your order it's your turn." She pointed to the front.

He turned around seeing that the barista was glaring at him and it was indeed his turn. "I'd like a large hazelnut late." He said handing over his card to pay for the overpriced but much needed coffee.

"I'd like a coffee, black with two sugars and a hot tea with milk, no sugar both medium." She said as she pulled out her card.

They stood in silence and thankfully the baristas were fast today. He got his coffee and took a seat by the window simmering. Who was she to say that he needed to talk with his wife about their marriage they were doing well enough. But no she buts in and says that he's the problem because he's not one to talk about his feelings. He glared at her as she pushed open the door a coffee cup in each hand. She stood outside the store and he watched as she waited. He was going to see just who was going around spreading rumors about him.

He took a sip and nearly spat out his coffee instead choking on it for a bit before he swallowed because out there walking up to her in his signature coat was Sherlock Holmes the bane of his existence. He took the cup from her hand taking a sip talking animatedly as he moved his hands nearly spilling his coffee in his excitement. She threw her head back laughing and he watched as Sherlock laughed with her. She leaned into him and he put his arm around her shoulder as they walked away.

He looked down at his cup like something was going to jump out of it at him. "I think I need to lay off the coffee."

_Sherlock's rudeness has rubbed off on John a bit. I may do certain prompts more than once, especially broad ones that would do well in multiple situations, for these I'm only putting the special thanks in for it's first fill. Thank yous to everyone, who read, reviewed, followed, and/or favorited and special thanks to OntheRun246._


	13. The Danger Night: A Poolside Retreat

**The Danger Night: A Poolside Retreat**

_I do not own this show at all. Now that that is out of the way please enjoy the story._

"John." Sherlock breathed his face stuck somewhere between betrayal and relief. "What the hell?"

"Bet you never saw this coming." John stopped ever other word her voice fluctuating oddly every other word halting. "It must be so unnerving for you. After all you came here expecting to greet your greatest foe only to find your supposedly dead wife pulling all of the strings." Her hands tightened into fists her eyes fluttering.

"John." He breathed in disbelief unable to trust that his eyes and ears were not lying to him.

"There he is the great Sherlock Holmes." She gestured to him with one shaking hand. "If only they could see you now, see how pathetic you are." She watched as Sherlock shrank back each word hitting like a physical blow.

"The bastard of Baker Street heartless, friendless, untouchable Sherlock Holmes wrapped around little John Watsons little finger. I was so disappointed in you Sherlock Dear, so very disappointed. I make you weak, make you stupid, make you human, and anyone with half a brain can use me to hurt you." She said through gritted teeth and halting words.

She held out her hands putting them on the lapels of her coat easing it open. A mass of wires and grey plastic spilled out and his heart threatened to stop beating even as it galloped out of control in his chest. A red dot entered itself on one of the grey packs, it was a laser sight and John, his John was the target. "Go on then Sherlock. What would you like me to make her say next?"

"Gottle o' gear, gottle o' gear, gottle o' gear." She rattled off parroting her captor and he could see it now no longer blinded by betrayal. She was scared, petrified, his John who thrived when her life was on the line, who laughed in the face of danger was afraid. How long had she been held captive by this madman while he'd been wasting away on Lestrade's couch?

"Nice touch by the way bringing us back to where it all began. Back to the pool where little Carl died. I stopped him you know, stopped his heart. I can stop John Watson too, stop her heart." She said her voice breaking weak at the end.

"Stop this." He growled.

"Oh that's no fun now is it Sherlock? I mean we were having such fun earlier you and I. All those people dead, lives on the line, bombs set to go off and you were like a kid in a candy store. I guess it's all fun and games until someone touches your wife." She spat like the words tasted sour in her mouth.

"Who are you?" He snarled each word his face twisted in fury.

"I gave you my number, thought you might call." A man sing-songed in a high voice with an Irish lilt before he walked out into the room. Whatever Sherlock had expected his so called nemesis to look like it was not this short man with dark hair and eyes like pools of shadow who walked up to them almost seeming to dance. "But then again I figured you wouldn't too hung up on this one to have any fun." He said with a dismissive wave at John.

"Jim Moriarty hi." He said as he stopped by John. "Go on Johnny Girl you can talk now."

She kept her mouth shut as she glared at him. "Oh isn't that cute you're giving us the silent treatment." He said with a slight shake of his head. "That's not how the game is played but I'll let you have it your way."

He smirked up at Sherlock. "I was surprised when my men first brought her to me. As far as I knew she was just a brainless army doctor with a bullet in her shoulder and a surprisingly strong will to live. But I was disgusted when I did some digging and found out what she was. A bit jealous too I must admit all of your attention focused on her, when she obviously doesn't deserve it. She's such an easy puzzle to solve." He shook his head sadly. "It must be so draining being tied to someone so stupid."

Moriarty took a step toward Sherlock making the mistake of turning his back to John. She rushed at him throwing her arm around his neck chocking him. She tightened her grip around his neck making his legs buckle. "Sherlock run."

"Now that's more like it." Moriarty said somehow still standing and talking with all of her weight on his neck. "This is how you play the game. Aren't normal people adorable Sherlock. I'm beginning to see the appeal they're so disgustingly loyal. But I'm afraid you've shown your hand now haven't you Johnny Girl."

She let go of him like he had just spontaneously combusted as a red light settled over Sherlock's heart. He wiped imaginary dust off his shoulders and straightened his tie. "Westwood." He said as he spread out his arms then gestured in toward his suit.

"But enough flirting Daddy's had enough now." His voice got high at the end and his smile fell from his face replacing it with a look that was so empty it was chilling. "See playtimes over Sherlock and the real fun has just gotten started. I could kill you here and now, get you out of the way, but that wouldn't be much fun now would it?"

Sherlock glowered at him as did John but they remained silent much to Moriarty's amusement.

Jim smirked. "Playing the silent game now too? Looks like she has rubbed off on you, but it doesn't matter. I'm not going to be satisfied without making you suffer without watching you dance. I'm going to burn you. I'm going to burn the heart out of you." He said emphasizing the word heart.

"I've been informed many times that I don't have one." Sherlock said as he glared at Jim.

Moriarty laughed. "Now Sherlock we all know that that's not true. I'll be taking my leave now, there's so much I have to do so many preparations to sort out. Get ready for round two Sherlock we're going to have so much fun."

He waved his hand and the red dots on Sherlock and John pulled up and away from them. He turned and walked out of the room like he was untouchable. They watched as he slipped out of the door knowing that at any moment the red dots of the laser sights could appear and they could be splattered across the pool. He called back to them one last message, a promise. "You'll be seeing me again soon Sherlock. Be ready to play."

_This is a continuation of chapter 9 which is a continuation of chapter 5 and there are a few more continuations to come. I will be doing one where Greg is the bomber it sounds like an interesting turn. I won't be doing a segment on Baby Sister Enola Holmes as I feel that it would take away from the theme of this series which is my one caveat to accepting the suggestions. I feel that it wouldn't be right to have you wait for a fill that will not be done. However once "the other one" has made an appearance I will do the other half of your suggestion. Thank yous to everyone, who read, reviewed, followed, and/or favorited._


	14. The Two Bedrooms

**The Two Bedrooms**

_I do not own this show at all. Now that that is out of the way please enjoy the story._

Sherlock had finally found them a new flat. After months of subtle and not so subtle hints that it was time to find a better place to live Sherlock had finally relented. But only after she had everything packed away in boxes and they'd been given another eviction notice from the landlord who did not appreciate explosions of any sort in his building. Mrs. Hudson a kind older lady that Sherlock had helped during her first tour led them into the flat. John could tell instantly that Sherlock had already moved them in his stuff was everywhere. She shook her head fondly as she scanned the mess that had only gotten bigger when she was deployed. The old woman moved through the flat making a futile effort to clean things up a bit and John looked at Sherlock with a raised brow.

"Sherlock the mess you've made." Mrs. Hudson said with fond maternal affection.

"There's another bedroom upstairs if you'll be needing two bedrooms." She said as she vainly tried to straighten up Sherlock's mess.

John nearly groaned in exasperation. She loved Sherlock she really did but sometimes she just wished he remembered that not everyone could see things the way he did. She turned to Mrs. Hudson trying not to set off Sherlock into one of his everyone around me is so stupid moods. "Um no that won't be necessary, not for another six months or so."

"Six months? Why are you not staying then?" Mrs. Hudson sounded confused and strangely enough disappointed.

"Uh no Sherlock and I are married. We sleep together, when he's not up playing the violin or doing experiments." John said her face beginning to turn red.

"You're married!" She clapped her hands together in excitement.

"Yes Mrs. Hudson. John and I have been married. We were married when I was working your case but John was at war so you two didn't meet." Sherlock said as he stabbed the mail onto the fireplace mantle.

"At war?" Mrs. Hudson sounded horrified as John was beginning to grow uncomfortable with the emotional roller coaster they were sending this poor woman on.

"She's an army doctor, recently honorably discharged, Captain John Watson of the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers." Sherlock said practically preening in pride.

"Then what's this about the two bedrooms then why would you be needing two if you're married?" She sounded scandalized. "A married couple shouldn't sleep in separate rooms."

"Oh no the room isn't for me." John said and Sherlock decided to butt in.

"At the moment John is three months pregnant. Would you mind if we turned the upstairs bedroom into a nursery?" He asked putting on a smile that was surprisingly kind for him.

"A baby?" Mrs. Hudson asked sounding like she was questioning whether she was dreaming or not.

"Two actually we're having twins." Sherlock said with a smile that was real and not one of the many he put up to manipulate people.

"Twins!" Mrs. Hudson squealed. "I have to tell Mrs. Turner! What are you doing still standing up sit down and rest your leg. I'll get you a cuppa herbal tea." She said ushering John into a chair.

"I'm fine Mrs. Hudson." John said even as she allowed the lady to lead her to a seat.

She whirled on Sherlock. "Shame on you for leaving your poor wife standing on that leg of hers when she has children to mind!"

She left the room talking to herself as she went. "Now you'll need a cot for each of the little ones and a changing station, you'll need to paint the walls or get some new wallpaper, and you'll need to baby proof the house."

"I think that went well, but why was it such a surprise that we were married?" John said drumming her fingers on her arm.

Sherlock huffed. "Isn't it obvious?"

She sighed. "Not to anyone but you Sherlock. Now could you hand me my pillow the one with the Union Jack on it?"

_You guys are giving me so many great prompts it may take a bit but they'll be up someday, hopefully sooner than later. Thank yous to everyone, who read, reviewed, followed, and/or favorited. Special thanks to Arty Diane for the prompt.  
><em>


	15. The Parka

**The Parka**

_I do not own this show at all. Now that that is out of the way please enjoy the story._

He was sweating through his shirt, the heavy parka he was wearing and the warmth of the pool room not helping his situation much. He'd be sweating even if he wasn't in a bloody parka as there was a bomb strapped to his chest and a madman talking to him through an earpiece. He wasn't going to invite Sherlock onto a crime scene ever again if he survived this. If he lived he was going to retire spend the rest of his life sipping cocktails on some beach somewhere because he sure as hell earned it. The madman had a henchman shove him into one of the changing stalls. They pulled the curtain closed leaving him alone with a threat of you're wearing a bomb and we've got snipers to keep him in place.

So there he was waiting for his cue to put on the best acting performance of his life. The bastards were going to have him trick Sherlock into thinking that he was Moriarty. He heard the door open heard Sherlock's speak as he tried to bait Moriarty into playing his game. The voice in the earpiece urged him to step out of the stall and say. "Evening Sherlock."

He did what anyone would do in that situation. He followed orders and watched as Sherlock looked at him like the backstabber Moriarty was making him out to be. He watched Sherlock form the words heard his name said with so much confusion and devastation it destroyed any thought he may have had about Sherlock being a psychopath or a sociopath. The madman fed another sentence in his ear and he forced himself to spit out the words. "This is a turn up isn't it Sherlock, bet you never saw this coming."

"Lestrade? How?" Sherlock said eyes wide.

"What would you like me to make him say next?" Greg said through gritted teeth as he imagined just how good it would feel to punch the weasel pulling his strings. Then the man made him say nonsense repeating the phrase gottle o' gear until he thought he would clock the man even if it did mean he'd go up in flames.

"Another victim playing parrot? I don't know why I expected more from you." Sherlock said as he scanned the room.

"Oh but this is so much fun. Nice touch this the pool where little carl died. I stopped him, stopped his heart. I can stop Greg's heart too." Greg said and even though his life was in danger he still didn't miss the look of confusion on Sherlock's face as he said his name.

"Who are you?" Sherlock said with all the warmth of Antarctica in the winter.

"Gave you my number, thought you might call." A man sing-songed in a high pitched voice with an accent that Greg couldn't place. He walked into the pool short and dark haired with eyes like coal dressed in a Westwood suit with a skull and crossbones pattern on his tie.

"You've made a mistake Moriarty if you though that this would make a statement." Sherlock said flatly, but Greg could see the anger simmering under the surface but he could not tell whether it was because he was disappointed in Moriarty's technique or the presence of one of the only people who could stand him in a bomb.

"I would have gone with that old bat you rent from but I've already blown up one little old lady today." Moriarty said with a smile that was dark and growing darker as he watched Sherlock glare at him. "Oh what's the matter not happy that I'm threatening your only friend?"

"I don't have friends." Sherlock spat and Greg reluctantly agreed with him.

"Now we all know that's not true." Moriarty said with a sad shake of his head.

Sherlock laughed, actually laughed in his face. "I don't have friends I only have one and you're in the line of fire."

He raised his hand and ducked to the Ground and Greg followed his lead as the sound of a shot rang out. Moriarty stumbled falling to his knees holding his chest. Red seeped out from between his fingers and began to drip to the floor. Sherlock got up and ran to check on him putting his fingers against the man's throat.

"He's alive, barely." Sherlock said.

He stood and grabbed a towel from one of the stalls and pressed it against the wound. "It hit the right side of his chest, missed the ribs but punctured a lung. He doesn't have too long but Mycroft's men should be here any moment."

"Mycroft!" Greg yelled. "You planned this."

"Yes and you should take that off before you set it off!" Sherlock snapped.

He looked down seeing the bomb still on him and he couldn't get if off fast enough. He stripped the parka and the vest like they were on fire and for good measure threw them into the pool. Then he an over to Sherlock to see if he could help any. Before he could however Mycroft walked into the room looking down at them with pity that looked so fake Greg would have preferred any other expression.

"You managed to keep him alive, good. We'll see what all we can learn from him." He said as a full paramedic squad ran into the room to tend to the injured madman. He looked at Sherlock. "Anthea is picking up John she should be here in a minute. Nice choice in the venue you gave her a good shot."

Sherlock nodded as he stood and let the paramedics take care of Jim. He left the room leaving Lestrade with Mycroft, the paramedics, and a madman. He fell against the wall unable to decide if he wanted to throw up, cry, or throttle Sherlock for getting him into this mess. One paramedic a smiling woman draped an orange blanket over his shoulders and ran a few tests on him before she went back to where the rest of them were hovering over the madman. Sherlock came back the blood washed from his hands as the paramedics wheeled away Moriarty.

"Ah Anthea!" Mycroft said as his assistant walked into the room typing away on her phone as she seemed to do every waking moment.

A short woman with ash blonde hair cut in a pixie style followed Anthea into the room running to Sherlock the instant she saw him. She threw her arms around him and to Lestrade's shock Sherlock returned the hug wrapping his arms around her in turn. Then his jaw dropped as Sherlock kissed her and she kissed him back. he watched them unable to turn his eyes away from the spectacle until the two reluctantly pulled away. Sherlock led her in his direction and gestured to him. "John this is Lestrade."

He gestured to the red faced woman beside him. "Lestrade this is John."

He looked between them unable to fully connect the dots as grey began to fill his vision. He briefly felt like his stomach dropped out of his body before he did what might be the only reasonable thing one could do in a situation where they pass their ability to process things. He had a very long and meaningful conversation with the floor_._

_ Thank yous to everyone, who read, reviewed, followed, and/or favorited. Special thanks to SwimmerGirl0726 and I meant to say this last chapter but it comepletly slipped my mind, I'm honored to be your favorite author SwimmerGirl0726._


	16. The Secret Santa

**The Secret Santa**

_I do not own this show at all. Now that that is out of the way please enjoy the story._

Sally looked around the room the Christmas party in full swing, which basically meant that people were in groups of two or three chatting while Christmas music played in the background. Sally had nothing against the party but she'd had a long week and all she really wanted to do was read the first two books of The Detective and the Army Doctor again and complain online with the other fans that the next book didn't come out until January. Instead here she was because she had been invited and if she didn't go to the party then Susan wouldn't' get her secret Santa gift and she'd feel guilty about leaving someone giftless at a secret Santa party. Sherlock was there too and while normally that wasn't a thing to be excited about she couldn't wait to see what was in the gift he brought when it was opened. There was a betting pool going and she put her money on body parts.

As soon as everyone arrived the exchange could begin. Sally handed off her gift to Susan who gushed over the two bottles of hand soap like they were diamonds and waited for her Secret Santa to present her with her gift. Her jaw nearly dropped when Sherlock walked up to her and it hit her that she'd be the unlucky person getting the secret Santa gift from Sherlock. He handed her the gift and she looked over the surprisingly festively wrapped package. She pulled off the white and gold ribbon and opened the bright red box her eyes nearly falling out as she saw what was inside. It looked like she wouldn't be winning the betting pool.

There were no body parts, no fingers or feet or a pair of eyes staring back at her, instead there were three books with The Detective and the Army Doctor on the covers. She nearly dropped the box but instead Sherlock took one of the books out and opened it to let her see the inside cover. She really did drop the box then. Dr. John Hamish never signed his books but there on the cover was a signature with 'To Sally Donavan' over it. she took the book in her hands running her fingers over the ink with a look of disbelief on her face.

"They're all signed and the third in the series, A Diamond in the Dark hasn't even been released yet." Sherlock said beside her as he picked up the books and put them back in the box.

He put it on the table beside her and she just stood there blankly before her face fell and she looked at him with loathing. "This is fake isn't it! You're doing this just to mess with me."

Sherlock huffed. "There is a certificate of authenticity for every signature in the box."

"But A Diamond in the Dark hasn't even come out yet. How did you get it?" Sally said as she looked at the third book.

"I know the author." Sherlock said flatly. "That's also how I procured the signatures."

"You? How do you know Dr. John Hamish?" Sally asked sounding skeptical.

"You see but you do not observe." Sherlock said as he took out his phone.

Taking that as a dismissal Sally went back to her corner and cracked open A Madman in the Sand wanting to read it and A Clue in the Letter before digging into the third book. She holed herself into a corner and got lost in the story of William Scott and Johanna Sacker.

_Seeing him standing there dressed in a suit and coat in the desert heat I thought that I'd gone too long without water and my mind had conjured up this shadow from my past. He was so much different than I remembered and I thought I saw in him the specter of the man he might have become if I'd stayed. His eyes were piercing and looking into his eyes I knew that could see everything they mesmerized me, much like they always had. His soft dark curls set off his pale skin making his hair seem darker and his skin seem lighter. His cheekbones were sharp and in a moment of delirious wonder I believed if I touched them I'd cut myself. He spoke my name and his voice was deep even deeper than it had been aging like wine to take on new depths that didn't sound like they could come from a man as thin as he was. It was to the shouts of my name from his lips that I fell into unconsciousness._

She blinked a bit and looked at Sherlock then back at the book repeating the motion several times her brain trying and failing to make the jump she knew it was trying to make. Sherlock couldn't be the detective from the novel. He was Sherlock Holmes there was no way that he was the inspiration for the romantic lead in any book, let alone her favorite series. With that settled in her mind she buried herself in the book determined to finish at least the third chapter before the party was over.

_Sally does not believe what Sherlock has hinted. As for the novels basically John wrote, romanticized, and had published her adventures with Sherlock after Harry convinced her to. She changed a few names around and only people who know her well would know that she is Dr. John Hamish. She convinced him to give Sally the books in an attempt to bury the hatchet. Thank yous to everyone, who read, reviewed, followed, and/or favorited._


	17. The Drugs Bust

**The Drugs Bust**

_I do not own this show at all. Now that that is out of the way please enjoy the story._

Anderson looked at the door trying to gather enough courage to open the door. Drugs busts at Sherlock's flat were always disgusting and horrifying. He remembered the first time he'd gone on one, he'd found a finger in the freezer and lost his love of froze treats for a year after. So needless to say he was a bit unsettled at the thought of opening the door and entering Sherlock's bedroom. On the one hand it was the room no one ever found anything in and on the other it could be the day he learned if all the rumors going around about Sherlock and his room were true. He steeled himself and turned the knob entering the room slowly as though something might pop out of the shadows at any moment.

The light was turned off and he fumbled against the wall relieved when he finally found the switch. He flicked it on and turned to look around the room he'd been assigned. It was a surprisingly normal looking room for a man like Sherlock who kept his mail in place by stabbing it to the mantle. He even had a messy bed which was surprisingly normal at least he thought it was until the duvet started to move.

"Sherlock." A woman's voice rose up from under the covers followed by a yawn that turned into a slurred sentence. "I thought you weren't coming to bed tonight. Did you solve the case?"

Anderson backed up against the wall staring at the bed unable to fully comprehend what he was hearing.

"You're not Sherlock." The woman said darkly her voice hard and piercing like a blade. In the time it took for Anderson to blink she was sitting up with a gun leveled to Anderson's chest. "Now who are you?"

Anderson froze as all of the blood rushed from his head. He couldn't form any words he could barely breath. His chest had constricted and he was torn between the need to get away and the desperate hope that if he stood still she wouldn't hurt him. Unable to decide he stood there like an idiot staring down the barrel of a gun his heart pounding in his chest like it was going to explode.

The woman moved from the bed and stood to her feet somehow managing to keep the gun aimed at him as she did. She was dressed in pajamas and he only noticed because the thin straps of the top left her shoulder exposed and his eyes were focused on the scar that puckered red and white on her left shoulder and his brain unconsciously labeled it as a bullet wound. She glared at him with eyes that were like the ocean in the midst of the storm and he had a feeling that she was just as merciless. Everything about her was cold her eyes, the cut of her hair, the lines in her face, the way she stood, all of it screaming that she would kill him if he gave her enough reason to.

"Answer me." She ground out through her teeth. "Who are you and why are you in my flat?"

He finally found his voice and he stuttered out. "I… I… I'm A…An…And…Anderson. I'm, I'm wi… With Scotla…Scotland Y… yard."

She blinked and some of the hardness drained out of her face though the gun didn't move from where it was pointed at his chest. "Do you work with Detective Inspector Lestrade?" She asked her voice minutely softer.

"Uh." His brain stuttered unable to process what she was saying.

"Yes or no." She said the hardness filling her voice again.

"Y… yes." He forced the words out of his mouth.

"What are you doing in my flat?" Sherlock could be heard through the door as he shouted from the living room.

"It's a drugs bust." Lestrade's voice replied cheekily sounding completely ignorant of Anderson's plight.

"Did you send someone into my room?" Sherlock snapped.

"Yeah Anderson why?" Lestrade asked confused.

The door opened and the woman relaxed though her gun stayed pointed at him. Sherlock walked into the room and laughed, really laughed. He burst out chuckling at the sight of Anderson being held at gunpoint.

"Do you know him?" The woman asked her voice hard.

"Yes he works with Scotland Yard." Sherlock said smirking as he looked at Anderson.

The woman lowered her gun and Anderson instantly collapsed against the wall in relief. "I'm sorry for scaring you but Sherlock put our address on his blog and with the amount of enemies he's made I prefer to play it safe." She said as she put the gun on the nightstand beside the bed.

"Sherlock who is that?" Lestrade asked as he looked into the room. "And why did she have a gun leveled at one of my officers?"

"Oh I'm sorry." The woman said blushing and Anderson decided that without the gun she no longer looked like a threat at all. She held out her hand to Lestrade. "John Watson."

Lestrade took it and shook her hand. "Gregory Lestrade." He from her to Anderson. "I have two questions for you. Why did you have Anderson at gunpoint and why are you living with Sherlock?"

"I didn't know that he was with Scotland Yard and our address is on Sherlock's blog. Any criminal who might want revenge knows where we live and I live with Sherlock because I'm his fiancé." She said her voice growing hard even as her face stayed perfectly pleasant.

His eyes widened but he schooled his face into a neutral position. "Congratulations I wish you both the best." He said as it was the first thing he could think of to say as he looked between the short blonde woman and the tall dark haired man wondering how they'd even gotten together. But he ignored the questions dancing through his brain and forced himself to focus on the reason they were there in the first place. "Now how far have you gotten with the case Sherlock?"

_Lestrade will freak out later right now he is on the clock, Anderson's fine just a bit freaked out. Mycroft approves of John so no charges will be filed, at least not officially, won't stop Anderson from trying though. __Thank yous to everyone, who read, reviewed, followed, and/or favorited. Special thanks to Princess Mew Mew._


	18. The Charity Date

**The Charity Date**

_I do not own this show at all. Now that that is out of the way please enjoy the story._

"Is this a joke? Are they serious about this?" Sally said as she slammed a paper down on Lestrade's desk.

"What are you talking about?" Lestrade said with a look that said that he hadn't yet had enough coffee to deal with this yet.

She gestured to the paper like it was the piece of cake in the break room that had been petrified in the fridge for years or the one toilet that even the janitor was afraid to clean. "It says that I have to attend the charity function with a date! I can't go by myself I have to have a date it's required. I'd go with Anderson but he's bringing that cow wife of his and I don't have anyone else to go with."

"Then ask Sherlock, he has to go too." Lestrade said as he waved her away.

"The Freak you want me to go out with the Freak." She nearly shrieked in outrage. "I can't stand him and he hates me. We'll be lucky if neither of us ends up charged with murder by the end of the evening."

"Sally I don't care if you take Sherlock or the next person you meet on the street I just want you to attend the Charity Function like everyone else. If you can't find a date I'm sure Sherlock will be willing to trade insults with you for an evening. Either way I need you to get out of my office I have a mountain of paper work to fill out and you're just wasting my time." Lestrade said as he took a sip of his rapidly cooling coffee.

"No." She snapped. "I will not agree to be that thing's date."

"Then find someone else and stop complaining to me." He said and swept his hands as though to shoo her out of the door. "Now go I'd like to have this done before my shift ends."

"Fine!" She said storming out of the office with a scowl.

A week passed without any luck Sally was at her wits end. She'd tried everyone, everyone she could think of. She'd called up her exes, discovered that her cousin who had a knack for setting her up on dates was out of town, and she asked around work turning up nothing. Everyone but her had a date. The only person she hadn't asked was Sherlock and from the looks of it he was her only option. She resisted the temptation to bite her nails as she watched him blatantly ignore the rules and plod about the crime scene in that huge coat of his spreading insults and disdain for everyone else who was working the scene. She steeled herself standing up tall she would do this with dignity. She walked up to him ignoring the superior look on his face.

"Sorry Sally I already have a date to the function." He said before she could even get a word out.

"What!" She yelled.

His eyes narrowed at her but he didn't look too angry that sickening superior look was still on his face. "I'm going with my fiancé."

"Fiancé you have a fiancé?" Sally let loose a fake laugh because for a joke it wasn't even all that funny. "I'd believe that pigs could fly before I'd ever believe that someone would be stupid enough to marry you."

Sherlock ignored her in favor of pointing at the body. "It was the florist." He left the crime scene with a pointed glare in Sally's direction. She glared at him with equal fury until it hit her that she'd been summarily rejected by the only man left. She was going to be suspended because she couldn't find a date to a stupid charity function. She stormed from the scene taking temporary refuge in a squad car to pull herself together. She was out of options but that was okay she'd find something somehow. She just had to keep trying.

In the end she did find a date Molly from the St. Bart's mortuary set her up with Jim from IT. He was decent enough and at least he wasn't Sherlock. It was obvious that Jim wasn't interested in her but he smiled politely and at least had the decency not to lie to her face about the status of his love life. Unlike Sherlock who lied about having a fiancé just to get out of dating her. They arrived at the Charity Function on time and she was even beginning to enjoy herself until Sherlock came in with a woman, an actual living breathing woman.

She stared across the room trying to be inconspicuous. The woman Sherlock was with was nothing like she pictured his so called fiancé to be like. She looked normal, even with her hair cut shorter than Sherlock's. She'd dressed casually in a nice skirt and blouse and she laughed as Sherlock led her around the room. She'd expected someone like Sherlock larger than life and a standout wherever she went, not this normal woman who could blend into a crowd.

She tried to sneak up on them to get a closer look but she was caught as Sherlock turned around and saw her.

"Hello Sally." He said with a false grin. He gestured to the woman beside him with his hands and a much more genuine smile began to form on his lips before he schooled his face into a blank expression. "This is my fiancé Johanna Watson."

"You can call me John." The blonde haired woman said with a smile.

She looked between the two of them and crossed her arms over her chest. "You know what Sherlock. I still don't believe it."

"I didn't ask you to." Sherlock said turning away from her the woman beside him doing the same.

_Non regular characters will get their moment in the spotlight too, they haven't shown up much yet but they will eventually. Thank yous to everyone, who read, reviewed, followed, and/or favorited._


	19. The Fake Gun

**The Fake Gun**

_I do not own this show at all. Now that that is out of the way please enjoy the story._

John hailed a cab wishing and for not the first time that she had Sherlock's unnatural ability to get a cab every single time he raised his hand. Instead she stood in the cold the overcast sky and moisture thick air hanging heavy over her with the promise of rain. She just wanted to get home before she was soaked to the bone which was looking more and more like a pipe dream as no one was stopping. Finally a cab pulled up and she climbed into it happy to be on her way home. "221B Baker Street please."

She zoned out a bit her thoughts revolving around Sherlock and whether or not he'd decided to delete their anniversary this year. She'd already set up reservations at a nice restaurant just in case Sherlock had forgotten and if Sherlock had plans already she'd let Molly and Mycroft have the reservation she made. They could use a bit of time to themselves without governmental responsibilities and impending disasters ruining their good time. She was so focused on her own thoughts she didn't know anything was wrong until the cab slowed to a stop and she saw that they were defiantly not at Baker Street.

The cabbie got out of the cab and opened the door pointing his gun at her before giving her a gesture to follow him. She looked over the gun and stood letting him lead her into the building and into a small living room that looked like it had been abandoned sometime in the last five years. He gestured for her to sit at a small square table and he took a seat on the opposite side. He smiled at her and she scowled at him.

"I suppose you're wondering why you're here?" He said pausing a moment for effect. He pulled a bottle of pills from his jacket pocket and put it on the table in front of him.

"I brought you here so that we could play a little game. " He pulled out a second bottle. "We're going to play which pill is poisoned."

He gestured between the bottles. "The rules are simple you pick a bottle and we both take our medicine. The winner of the game is the one that is still alive when it's over." He said with a smug smile.

"I'm quite good at this game so take your time, but if you don't want to play…" He trailed off for a moment. "Then you'll forfeit the game and I'll just shoot you instead."

"You're the serial suicide killer. Sherlock's going to be so disappointed." She groaned. "I'm not going to hear the end of this one for a while."

The killer perked up a smile twisting his lips. "You won't be living that long Dearie. So you know Sherlock Holmes? I know everything there is to know about Sherlock Holmes. Where he lives, what he does, what he used to be, I know it all."

John couldn't help herself she laughed. She did more than laugh she about fell out of her chair laughing so hard that it hurt. The killer looked down at her like she was losing her mind as she tried to calm herself down. It wasn't right to burst out laughing in front of a killer. She managed to get her laughter under control but when she looked at the bewildered look on his face she lost it again. It took some time for her to calm down but somehow she managed it. She schooled her face into a blank expression but she had the feeling that some of her humor was leaking through.

"I don't think you know much about Sherlock at all." John said an edge of dark humor colouring her voice.

"I think you should remember who is in control here." The cabbie said brandishing his gun pointing it at her face.

"Oh I know who is in control here. See if you knew anything about Sherlock Holmes you would never have taken me, you would have let the next cab pick me up. If you knew anything about Sherlock Holmes you would know that his wife recently returned from Afghanistan and she knows what a real gun looks like." John grabbed his wrist twisting it so that the gun slipped out of his hand. She grabbed it and jerked on his arm dragging him partially onto the table where she hit him over the head with the butt of the fake pistol. He fell onto the table dazed and without his senses he couldn't get a grip on the table. He slid off onto the floor and John pulled off her belt to tie his hands together.

She put the fake gun down on the table and pulled out her mobile phone. She sent Sherlock a text that said. 'Call Lestrade I've been kidnapped. I'm fine I've got him tied up. He's your serial killer by the way. He's the one that's been poisoning people making it look like suicide.'

"Who are you?" The cabbie groaned.

She looked down at him debating whether or not to tie him to the fireplace. "Captain John Watson of the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers I've been married to Sherlock for five years now."

"He never told me about you." The cabbie said his voice rough.

John looked down at him when the door burst open and men dressed in body armor carrying guns swarmed in followed by her brother in law Mycroft.

"You've gotten better at this Mycroft I haven't even been here for more than ten minutes." She said as he walked up to her a congenial smile on his face. She gestured to the cabbie. "He says someone told him about Sherlock."

He looked down at the cabbie like he was a bug he'd crushed under his shoe. "Yes well we'll find out who he is talking about soon enough. Should I have Anthea take you back home?"

_Thank yous to everyone, who read, reviewed, followed, and/or favorited._


	20. The Blog: A Discovery at Night

**The Blog: A Discovery at Night  
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_I do not own this show at all. Now that that is out of the way please enjoy the story._

Sally was bored and she knew it was the kind of boredom that made everything that was usually fun seem dull. After deciding that there was nothing outside her flat that interested her that night she turned to the internet for some entertainment. At first she looked over her favorite web pages, but she'd been keeping up a little too well as it took less than an hour to get bored of the sites. Hoping that a change of digital scenery would help she started typing a few random queries in the search engine. Some of the sites she pulled up were interesting and most were either dull or just weird. She was beginning to get tired of that when on a whim she typed in Sherlock. The first hit for his name surprisingly wasn't his website '_The Science of Deduction'_ but '_The Blog of John H. Watson'_. Intrigued and interested, because anything where Sherlock's name turned up was bound to be interesting if you weren't there in person, she clicked on the link. The first thing she noticed was the beige, grey, and green assault on her eyes. The second thing that she noticed was that she wasn't on the article that mentioned Sherlock. The third thing she noticed was that in spite of having the name John and a very short haircut John Watson was a woman and not a man.

In spite of the nauseating colour design she decided that she might as well check it out. With any luck this John Watson was another victim of Sherlock's and she'd have more evidence to present to Lestrade that the man was a menace in need of stopping. Perhaps she'd get really lucky and Sherlock would never be allowed to darken a door at a crime scene ever again. With Sherlock gone everything that she wanted t stay private could stay that way. Eager to gather evidence she ignored the first few entries looking for Sherlock's name in hopes that she wouldn't have to read every article on the sight just to find one mention of Sherlock. She found his name and clicked on the entry titled '_Why Sherlock and I Will Never Play Cluedo Again.' _She read through it hoping that she'd finally found something anything that would convince Lestrade that it was time to leave the detective work to the police.

_'When I looked through everything Harry had brought over from storage I found my old Cleudo game. I thought that it would be fun to play a game of Cluedo with Sherlock. We'd played it before but we were in Uni and usually otherwise occupied when we played. It'd been such a long time so I thought he might enjoy it or just spend the night mocking it. This would turn out to be a huge mistake as I soon discovered that either Sherlock cares nothing for the rules or he deleted them as soon as he'd heard them. The instant the dice left his hand he accused Mr. Body of faking his own death. I tried to convince him that it wasn't possible and only the guests could commit the murder. That turned out to be a disaster because I know that I'm right and Sherlock thinks he is right. When I informed him that it was against the rules he then informed me that the rules were wrong. Now Sherlock has a habit of stabbing our mail to the mantle. I only brought this up because now we have a Cluedo board hung on the wall with a knife. Surprisingly it wasn't Sherlock who put it up there. No this time I'm the one who made our landlady raise the rent. Now when he gets especially bored and wants me to go out with him on a case all he has to say is "It's this or Cleudo." and it works every time.'_

Sally had never been more grateful for the internet as she burst out laughing. This was hilarious of course Sherlock wouldn't bother with the rules in a game he barely cared for them in real life. It was just too funny picturing Sherlock pouting as he tried to convince John that Mr. Body faked his death. She'd just learned that Sherlock Holmes of all people was married and it surprised her that she didn't even care as long as it brought more articles like this. It was pure gold and it made her happy just knowing that the infallible Sherlock Holmes did indeed get things wrong. Eager to read more she went to the comments section hoping to find another mention of Sherlock. She wasn't disappointed.

The first comment was from Molly Hooper. _'Mycroft can be just as bad. I can't play Operation with him it never ends well.'_

The next comment was from Harry Watson. _'You stabbed the board to the wall! You need a night out away from all the craziness. We can have a girl's night. Drinks on me!'_

John responded to her._ _'I guess Sherlock was bound to rub off a bit on me eventually and no Harry I won't go out drinking with you.'__

Bill Murray who probably wasn't the famous movie star also commented. _'I used to think you were joking when you told stories about your husband but after meeting him in person this doesn't seem too hard to believe.'_

_'Why joke when the truth is much more interesting.' _John replied.

Sherlock Holmes also left a comment. _'Mr. Body did fake his own death. It is the only reasonable explanation.'_

_'I won't even have much.'_ Harry typed clearly upset that there would be no drinking.

_'Sherlock I didn't make the rules. Harry if you want to have a girls night we can go but we don't have to go out drinking.'_ John's response to the last two comments read.

_'So that's what has happened to my flat this week. That is coming out of your rent you two.' _A Mrs. Turner replied.

_'Sorry Mrs. Hudson.' _ John had typed in response.

That was all of the comments and Sally had to admit she could tell why this blog had more hits than Sherlock's site. It was actually interesting and a bit shocking unlike any of the articles on Sherlock's page. She browsed through the site and the more she read the more she thought that she should share it with the Yard. Everyone who knew Sherlock would get a kick out of this. She posted the link to the blog to an email and typed _'you have to see this'_ with a lot of exclamation points in the subject bar. Once that was through she sent it out to all of her work contacts and went back to the blog to bookmark it. She had a feeling that '_The Blog of John H. Watson' _was going to be her new favorite website.

_Anderson and DI Dimmock will eventually read a post from John's blog too. Thank yous to everyone, who read, reviewed, followed, and/or favorited._


	21. The Brother

**The Brother**

_I do not own this show at all. Now that that is out of the way please enjoy the story._

The sight of the big black car pulling up next to the phone booth nearly had John rolling her eyes. Sherlock had warned her that the instant his bother caught wind of her he'd want to have a talk but she hadn't thought that it would happen so soon. She hadn't even moved any of her stuff into the flat yet and here she was climbing into the vaguely menacing car that oozed luxury on her way to see the infamous Mycroft Holmes. She tried to make nice with the woman he'd sent to pick her up but this Anthea was obviously more interested in her phone than in making a good impression. Instead of passing the time with amiable conversation she stared out the window wondering where they were going and why Mycroft thought it necessary to call every phone she passed instead of the completely functional mobile in her pocket.

After driving through London in a way that seemed deliberately designed to get her lost they stopped in a warehouse. They literally drove into the warehouse and parked there in the middle of it like they owed it and as far as she knew they did. She made a note to ask Sherlock if his brother owned any mysterious threatening warehouses and got out of the car. Mycroft was standing in the light from the headlights looking as dramatic as she expected the older brother of the biggest drama queen she knew to look. He stood in much the same manner that Sherlock often did, in a way that was both utterly silly and designed to unsettle. She looked around noting that Mycroft could and probably did have armed personnel hiding behind every crate. She didn't look around for long though because armed men or not the biggest threat was standing in front of her. Mycroft gestured with his umbrella to the little chair that would have made the already intimidating man seem that much larger and more threatening. "Have a seat John."

She limped up to him leaning heavily on the cane Sherlock said she didn't need studiously ignoring the chair that had been left for her convenience. Instead she stood in front of him with a fake smile that she knew was far from convincing. "You know I've got a phone. Very clever and all that but you could just phone me on my phone."

"When one is avoiding the attention of Sherlock Holmes one learns to be discrete hence this place. The leg must be hurting you sit down." Mycroft said with a bit of steel at the end.

"I don't want to sit down." She said looking up at him with a look Sherlock affectionately called her war face.

"You don't seem very afraid." Mycroft drawled a bit of a smug smirk just barely twisting his lips.

"You don't seem very frightening Mycroft." She said savoring the millisecond of wide eyed shock on his face before the shutters closed and the smug look was back.

She didn't know him at all but she knew Sherlock well enough to realize that she had the advantage and she was going to press it as far as she could. "Sherlock warned me that this would happen. I thought that he was joking sometimes I just cannot tell with Sherlock, but apparently he was being serious."

He looked down at her his eyes flicking over her in a way she'd seen Sherlock look at everything he wanted to know more about. She watched as his eyes flicked up and down her body feeling almost smug. She watched his face carefully to see if she could spot exactly when he deduced what had Sherlock insisting that she move into Baker Street immediately. His eyebrow twitched and she smirked and crossed her arms over her chest. He frowned his lips turning down as he tried to deduce her again certain that he was misreading the signs.

"You are pregnant." He said blandly looking down his nose at her as he determined that his deduction must be correct. "And you've decided to move in with my brother. Why?"

She shrugged. "Why wouldn't I move in with him?"

"I believe that Sherlock would be a hazard for the child and of course the father if he is still involved with you might object to Sherlock's presence." He said haughtily and she frowned at what she now believed to be the most aggravating man on the planet, a position previously held by Sherlock.

"Sherlock insisted that I move in with him and if I thought that my child was in danger I'd still be in my bedsit. I trust him." John said with narrowed eyes.

"And of the father?" Mycroft asked with a tone that indicated he was beginning to lose his patience with her.

She rolled her eyes not even bothering to hide it. "As I said Sherlock insisted I live with him."

Mycroft almost started talking again when he froze and it reminded her of the human equivalent of a computer crashing. His face went slack almost blank, but not quite, he still had that arrogant look about him even when he was too shocked to think. It didn't last long and she noticed something else Mycroft had in common with Sherlock, they both could adjust quickly. "I expect regular updates on your health Dr. Watson and that of my nephew or niece. We will continue this conversation tomorrow after you have a visit with a physician preferably one of my choosing. Please tell Sherlock that I expect him to tell our parents of what has occurred between you two and that I will be discussing this matter with him. It would not do for my brother's recklessness to harm his offspring."

"I'll be sure he gets the message." John said blandly.

"It is nice to meet you Dr. Watson." He said holding out his hand to shake.

"Actually it's Dr. Holmes." John said with a smile as her brother-in-law began looking like a human computer crash again.

_Merry Christmas to everyone who celebrates it. Thank yous to everyone, who read, reviewed, followed, and/or favorited. Special Thanks to two Guests, Princess Mew Mew, Vampera, and Arty Diane. I will be revisiting Mycroft finds out again and John is pregnant again but not as a continuation._


	22. The Crime Scene

**The Crime Scene**

_I do not own this show at all. Now that that is over please enjoy the story._

Lestrade tried to make sense of what Sherlock was doing as he looked around the small office where an intern had been found folded over his desk with a knife in his back. The man was ducking and bobbing swaying to and fro sweeping over the office like a cat with all his bobbing up and down. It made him look ridiculous and it was making some of the less mature officers' snort and giggle like children. He had to admit that he was tempted to laugh right along with them and the urge to laugh grew worse when he saw Sherlock suddenly drop to the ground to look under one of the filing cabinets. It rose more than a few eyebrows but Lestrade knew better than to stop him, everything Sherlock did he did for a reason. Even something that looked stupid often turned out to be the thing that solved the case.

Sally walked into the room and glared down at Sherlock before turning to Lestrade. She looked at the open door and back to him a few times as though asking herself if she should do whatever it was she was going to do or just remain silent. "There's someone here they want to see Sherlock. Should I let them in?"

Lestrade sighed but nodded his head and Sally led a woman into the scene. She was petite wearing a black jacket and worn in jeans that were a little too big for her. Her dark blonde hair was shorn short and she had a solidness to her, like she'd been carved from stone. She held a simply wrapped box behind her back the black paper and red ribbon hardly festive. He lifted a brow wondering who this woman could be, what was with the box, and why was she so desperate to see Sherlock that she'd go to a crime scene to see him? On that matter how did she know to find him at a crime scene.

Sherlock flicked his eyes to see his guest and the instant he caught sight of her he jumped up reminding Lestrade of a spring. He held a dusty file in his hands but he seemed to have forgotten it as he stared at the woman and Lestrade thought that maybe it was a trick of the light when he saw Sherlock's eyes soften at the sight of her. but it soon became apparent that they did when his whole body relaxed and Sherlock became the most relaxed that Lestrade had ever seen him be. The woman smiled and held out the box to Sherlock. "Surprise! Happy birthday Sherlock."

It's Sherlock's birthday? Lestrade thought as the consulting detective set the file down on the desk and took the box from her hands his fingers brushing over hers in a way that Lestrade would have to be blind not to call deliberate. Sherlock looked over it for a moment shifting it carefully before a smug sort of smile took over his face. "Really John test tubes and flasks?"

She rolled her eyes in a dramatic way obviously not serious about it if the wide smile on her face was to be believed. "Sometimes I wonder why I even bother wrapping anything with you around. I thought you might need them considering that you've started using the mugs for your experiments again and I've made it a point to get you stuff you'll actually use." She folded her arms over her chest but she wasn't being aggressive but she seemed to be joking with Sherlock. "I'd prefer not to have formaldehyde in my tea."

He looked down at the box. "I'll unwrap it at home." He looked back up at her. "Mycroft bring you over?"

"Yeah I might owe him a favor." She said with a fond smile that was only a little strained.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow and Lestrade got the feeling that they would be talking about that later. "When do you have to be back?"

She smiled in a way that Lestrade just knew was trouble. "Not until Wednesday."

A devious smile bloomed over Sherlock's face and he turned to the confused DI. "Everything you need to know is in that file I have other matters to attend to."

Sherlock wrapped his arm around the woman's shoulder and they were gone vanished out the door in a swirl of Sherlock's coat. Leaving everyone else in the room reeling over the discovery that Sherlock had someone who wasn't his landlady or brother in his life. The team of officers stared out the door none of them unable to do anything more than stare at the door blankly. A minute after Sherlock left Mycroft went into the room and looked it over with disgust. He picked up the file and the look of disgust on his face grew darker sat the grime on it. After skimming through the file he set it down on the table. "Arrest the secretary for murder and extortion. Your victim Mr. Green discovered her transgressions and attempted blackmail using the contents of the file and Miss. Stone retaliated violently."

"Mycroft who was that woman and what are you doing here?" Lestrade asked his patience running thin as he'd just watched Sherlock run off with a woman in the middle of a case where like it or not he'd needed the detective.

Mycroft looked down at Lestrade his attention split between the umbrella in his hands and the detective inspector. "Any time I can garner a favor from my brother is an effort I do not consider a waste. John wished to visit Sherlock on his birthday and I arranged for her to be given leave. She is a rather remarkable woman to keep my brother on his toes. With any luck he will wise up and propose before she moves onto greener pastures."

"Wait are you trying to imply that woman is Sherlock's girlfriend?" Lestrade said gesturing at the door with his arm.

"Oh I wasn't implying anything though you may not want to visit my brother until Thursday. He will be otherwise occupied." Mycroft said dismissing himself and leaving the officers to their work.

_There are no plans to continue The Brother for now. There is a possibility I might return to it but there is no guarantee that I will. Thank yous to everyone, who read, reviewed, followed, and/or favorited and Special Thanks to SwimmerGirl0726 and Dreamer558750._


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